


The Lure of Adventure (Sam DrakexOC fic) Uncharted

by AndyBiersacksMissingRib



Category: Uncharted (Video Games)
Genre: F/M, Lost Love, Orphanage, Rafe Adler - Freeform, Romance, Sam Drake - Freeform, Slow Burn, Stripper, Uncharted 4, Video Game, Young Sam Drake - Freeform, life story, teenage love, uncharted - Freeform, young samuel drake - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-06
Updated: 2020-05-24
Packaged: 2020-10-11 00:27:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 27
Words: 140,865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20537144
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AndyBiersacksMissingRib/pseuds/AndyBiersacksMissingRib
Summary: If we're going to be honest, I'll admit, I never... Ever expected this.I loved Sam then, and I love him now... Albeit it's a more matured love than a simple crush. We'd lost contact after we had a bad fight and he ran away, leaving behind the Catholic orphanage we called home.For months we fell in and out of love and friendship with one another until one day he disappeared completely with his younger brother Nathan. No one really knew what happened to them... Everyone suspected they were runaways laying low, but this time unlike in the past, the cops never brought them back.Weeks with no word, and soon the names Sam and Nathan Morgan became myths among those who remained at Saint Francis Home, to everyone but me.  To me, I loved those boys more than I can say, I can't write them off so easily and forget their memory with a snap of my fingers. They meant too much to me to let go on a whim, I wish I'd meant the same to them.Sam Morgan... Where to begin?Inspired by the video game Uncharted 4: A Thief's End by Naughty Dog.It's set before, during, and after the events of the 4th and final game.





	1. This Infernal Place

The Saint Francis Home stood still in the pale purple shadows of early morning. The fog that rolled off the nearby bay gave the massive estate an eery, haunted feeling. I remember this night all too well as I was up to no good.

This is the kind of place that begs for early-morning exploration and daring stealth. The dark shadows, massive bell towers, and brooding angel statues everywhere were nothing short of the average young explorer's dream.

The Saint Francis Home houses boys on the far left side, and girls on the far right, with a long stretch of administrative rooms in between, plus the lunch room, infirmary, and various worship rooms. This is the infernal place I've called my home for the last thirteen years since I was put into care by my parents at the nice shiny age of three.

At 4:15 AM this particular night, as I was inching along the decorative brick outside my bedroom window, a car pulled into the cobblestone drive below, causing me to freeze in place and wince away from the light.

"Don't get caught... Don't get caught..." I mutter anxiously under my breath, squeezing my eyes shut as though it'd make it harder for them to spot me.

I could have sworn that I'd be spotted, and it would all be over, but the three people who got out of the car spared me no mind. It was early morning, so everything was dim and dark, but from the ambient light of a distant streetlight I could make out three figures; one a tall, rugged man, the second looked like a boy of maybe sixteen years old, and the third was a short boy, maybe ten or eleven at best.

Nothing good awaits kids brought here, especially not the ones in the middle of the night. This piqued my interest because no one comes at night... The courtyards and parking lots are vacant until eight AM when the gates open. This also catches my attention, this place is made to keep people in, so of course, there's a big wrought iron gate at the entrance with a guard. So how the fudge did this guy and his kids get in?

"Come on, boys, your future awaits." He told them in a grim voice, his tired, strained voice bouncing off all the brick structures in the quiet courtyard.

The two boys stuck close together as they warily followed him to the front door.

"Dad? What are we doing here?" The younger boy asked, gripping his backpack to his chest. They passed below where I was perched on the brick ledge above so I could only hear them then. I curled my fingers in a feeble attempt to grip the cracks between the dark grey bricks. I held my breath and pressed my back flat against the wall as I listened, careful not to let pieces of rock tumble off the narrow ledge to alert them of my presence.

"I have to leave for a little bit, so you two have to stay here. But don't worry, the Sisters will take good care of you."

The heavy over-kill gothic style front door slammed shut behind them, and I breathed a sigh of relief. +1 ninja point for superior stealth.

I scoot along the brick, gripping the wall behind me the best I can, struggling to keep my cool because I can hear the sound of rock cracking and shifting under my feet, indicating that I could be a solid five seconds from slipping to my doom. The cobblestone ground far below didn't look inviting at all, and I would have really preferred not to reach it so quickly.

The whole estate is massive and is made up of gothic-style spires and turrets, forming the grim outline of what looks like a castle poking out of the gloomy fog on mornings like these where everything is so still, calm, and serene. The interior is a maze of ornately decorated outdoor spaces, detailed stone corridors, and hallways leading to seemingly nowhere. They don't put kids in a place like this just because it's beautiful and good for the soul; it's so they get lost when they try to escape.

This theory is backed up by the fact that the spike-tipped wrought iron fence enclosing the property is short and easy to climb with enough ambition - they're counting on the mazes to stop you from ever reaching it.

Even in front of me is a vast sea of clock towers adorned with iron crosses at their peaks, and short steeples bearing cracked bells glistening in the dim moonlight. Vines and other foliage have claimed home to as many of the available brick surfaces as they can, leaving most of the outer walls looking like something plucked from the era of kings, queens, and knights with their dragons and swords.

Tonight is my weekly adventure night when I sneak out of my room and enjoy the many gorgeous views and stunning architecture the place has to offer. Being a young, concerningly-thin girl dropped into the care of Saint Francis at the age of three, I know almost nothing of my life outside that place. The stone walls, tapestries, and candle-lit rooms have been a part of my every-day life from the time I first started to develop my memory.

Sixteen now, and a bit of a quiet troublemaker (I don't go around throwing punches or be disrespectful. The trouble comes when I get caught sneaking about) I propped my window this evening for an easy, sleek escape. Of course, I can't leave... But even just getting a few hours to explore the property on my own offered me some relief. But that relief is always quickly taken away when I realize that at dawn, I must return to that room I share with those thug girls.

I've always been very thin and frail looking... A walking skeleton as many of the older, more muscular girls had commented. I was pale with very light, strawberry blonde hair that didn't help my case and the lack of any blush of dusting of freckles on my face in combination with the deep shade of blue my eyes. It's necessary to admit I look like something otherworldly.

Furthermore, because of my skinny, breakable-looking frame, those same muscular girls had to test their theories on more than one occasion by having a go at me. In my thirteen years here, I've experienced two broken arms, one leg, and two broken ribs... And my nose had been broken enough times that it formed an unattractive knot on the bridge that gifted me with a broad, Roman style nose, and in comparison to the other features on my face, it looked very out of place.

Tonight had been another fit of bullying that the Sisters did little to resolve. They used peaceful words to sort it, and when that didn't work, they got their rulers to smack the knuckles of those misbehaving, but that only made me a bigger target, and it marked me as a woos who needed a guardian to fight all their battles. Lights-out is usually at ten-thirty, but because they had to pull me and the other "Afflicted" girls aside and chat with us in the office, we did not return until twelve, and when we did we returned sniffling with puffy red eyes either from the discipline inflicted by the ruler or the pent-up frustration that remained because like any other time, the Sisters failed to resolve the problem properly by removing me from that room or giving me a solitary room for a bit. It's always easier to turn the other way and pretend you don't see anything happening. How many broken bones and split-up fights do they have to witness before its enough of an issue to be resolved properly?

A breeze came up and seized the opportunity to make the light blue standard-issue skirt flutter. All the girls wear pastel blue dresses, skirts, and blouses, while the boys have a bit more freedom. They were allowed denim jeans and t-shirts cut from the same cloth of blue, but they have more wiggle room in their attire.

It's the standard gender-carding cliche here, of course. Girls cannot wear anything above their knees, no shorts, all blouses must be buttoned to the base of your neck and no jewelry or hair bows. Pretty much, nothing that's going to attract the attention of the opposite sex. They like to play the distraction card a lot, saying that the boys have enough to stress over without, in Sister Agatha's words, "A bunch of half-dressed trollops running around with their privates hanging out."

I look above me and see the full moon trying to push through the dense fog hanging low over the children's home. I quicken my pace and make it to the corner of the girls dormitory in thirty seconds. Carefully, I step around the corner onto the lower roof and get a bearing on my surroundings. I dart along the cobblestone rooftop, my bare feet silent on the stone, and me, appearing as little more than a dancing shadow in the night as I moved across to the opposite edge.

I stop and freeze in my tracks when I hear the heavy wood door opening again. I grip the edge of the decorative brick edge and lean over to see whats going on down below. A splinter of golden light is pouring out across the smothering darkness of the courtyard, illuminating the shape of the rugged man retreating to his car.

The heavy door opened again and out shoved two children; his children. They burst into the courtyard and bolted towards his car, attempting to open the doors, panic written all over their faces as they pounded on the glass, trying to get his attention. That panic quickly turned to betrayal when he backed out quickly and vacated the courtyard, leaving the two terror-stricken boys there alone...

The older boy screamed in frustration an anguish; a sound that bounced off the brick and glass with an eery echo.

This night was the first time I'd ever seen Sam and his younger brother Nathan. The boys had had a terrible life thus far, as I'd come to know... But on this night, they were two strangers in the dark, and at the time, they were to me a spectacle of interest and intrigue. Of course, Saint Francis Home for Children constantly was bringing in and kicking out kids, but none of the new arrivals struck me with interest like this mismatched pair did.

They turned slowly, looking withdrawn and in shock. It was written all over their faces, but for the older boy, his turned quickly to seething anger.

"He left us!" He shouted as loudly as his lungs would allow. "Nathan, he left us here! He's not coming back!"

His younger brother, five-year-old Nathan, stared at him in innocent shock. His wide eyes teared up and he hugged his backpack to his chest with a vice grip. Three of the Sisters burst from the door, scolding them while trying to comfort them through their loss... I was merely a secret bystander watching a tragedy unfold.

"- Samuel, please, I know this is very hard on you and your brother, but just give it a chance." One of the Sisters said, reaching towards him in a kind gesture to touch his shoulder and guide him back inside. He roughly shoved her away, terror and rage in his innocent brown eyes. The yellow glow from the door left ajar illuminated his youthful face. His face still had some childish roundness left to it, and his eyes were wide like a deer in headlights.

"I'm not going with you!"

The Sisters began to close in around him, and he darted to make his escape, but he tripped on the uneven cobblestone and stumbled to his knees. Just then, another figure burst from the building.

"What on Earth is going on out here?" Father Ryan Duffy to the rescue. The normally quiet, soft-spoken man marched towards Samuel with grace and authority. Samuel still laid on the ground from his fall, scowling at the tall, dark-skinned man approaching him. By this time, Nathan was sobbing hysterically and had accepted the loving embrace of one of the sisters while she shushed him and whispered kind, reassuring words to him.

"Young Samuel..." He addressed him, crouching before him, his blood red leather-bound Bible tucked under his arm. "This is no way to behave. Anger is a pain that resonates with us all, and many act on their impulses. There is no reason to be a barbarian, count to fifteen, and if you're still angry, count to one-hundred, and then speak to me. Explain to me how you're feeling so I can help you."

Sam was seething, his back rising and falling rapidly as he struggled to deal with the rage inside him. A kid like himself, still so young... Boiling anger is a new emotion to deal with, and it's much harder when you've just been thrown into a place like this, and the first shred of kindness offered to you is someone demanding to know your thoughts and feelings.

I moved along the edge of the roof above them, the moon backlighting me as I slinked towards the other side. This drama is fine and great and all, but I do have a mission to be carrying out. I peeked down at the scene as I walk along.

Sam lifted his head again after thirty seconds and looked Father Duffy in the eye for a moment before his gaze flickered away. His eyes rose and fell upon my silhouette at the edge of the roof.

The others noticed his distraction and looked up, too. Stunned, I darted off, scrambling over the air conditioning units to get out of sight, but I'm certain the Sisters noticed me. I heard voices calling out from below, trying to identify me. They'd figure out that I was gone soon enough if I don't bite the bullet and get back to my room now. So much for an evening of urban exploration complete with roof jumping, statue climbing, and cross swinging.

I hurried across the rooftop until I came to the corner of the dormitory opposite to the site I entered from the first time. Peering down the wall, I counted the windows to the room I shared with seven other girls. The window was luckily left slightly cracked. All because Amelia had night terrors if she didn't have cool, fresh air all night.

Pressing my back to the wall, I shuffled along as quickly as I could manage without looking down to see how far below the concrete was. The tops of trees brushed my ankles as I slithered by. The voices of the Sisters insisting for me to come back and show myself faded as I kept moving.

The bricks below my feet had been in place for a few hundred years and obviously weren't made for delinquent children sneaking out across them. A few of them shifted under me, many of them loose from years of harsh weather. I could hear the crunch of sand grains between the stones as they shifted.

Luckily, I got to the window before any of them decided to launch free from the wall. I've never used the back route to escape or enter before, and it was not an adventure that I'd like to repeat again.

I grip the sill and quietly shimmied the window open wider, trying not to wake anyone inside the dark room. I listen hard for changes in breathing or snoring patterns, but to my relief, none came. Once the window was open a foot wide, I slither through, careful not to disturb Amelia who is sleeping a foot away from where I am entering.

The hem of my skirt caught on a jagged piece of metal framing the sill, and with a shrill ripping sound, a small tear formed.

"Shi...oot." I mutter under my breath, planting my bare feet on the hardwood floor and reaching back to unhook the metal, inspecting the damage in the pale moonlight. With a sigh, I hurry as quietly as I can to my bed, taking long, quick steps across the ancient, squeaky floorboards. I lie down on the lumpy mattress just as the door unlocked and the warm light of a candle illuminated the darkness.

I struggle to look like I am actually asleep, and silently pray that my position looks convincing although I am as rigid as a board. Several seconds later, after the nun counted us all, she exits as quietly as she entered. I breathe in relief, my heart still pounding.

I can't lie - I do feel a bit disappointed that my adventure got cut short. If I weren't such a nosy ass he wouldn't have noticed me and drawn attention to me... Though with luck it was too dark to identify me.

Perhaps tomorrow night I'll try again. Granted, now I have a mission in mind - the boys dormitory. Once I'm there, I'll be able to learn more about the suspicious new arrivals.

I'm essentially the shyist asshole you'll ever meet. I'm quiet and keep my head down most of the time, but when in the company of just myself, I am sneakily gathering information about those around me. Not for any personal gain, though... I just enjoy knowledge, and it helps me relate to people around me better when I know a bit of their backstory and where they come from.

Though, granted, digging through someone's private files is probably not the best way to make friends with them.

I close my eyes and prepare to drift off, mentally remembering the layout of the boys' dorm from the last time I was there for unrelated business. Basically, I enjoy map-making, and this entire estate offers endless opportunities to do just that. I have a couple notebooks containing my crummy sketches of hallways, floorplans, and every documentable entrance and exit. The boys' dormitory is more uncharted territory to me than the rest of it. I've only been there a handful of times, only twice for map-making, the rest were to sneak into the archives room, and the administrative room where all the documentation on everyone in this place is kept.

And if you can guess from the previous details I shared about the Sisters' concerns for mixing sexes, you already know that entering their side of the property is highly off limits.

Imagine this: A long collection of matching stone buildings that replicate a long, ornately decorated plantation manor. There's the central area in the center with the study rooms, kitchens, administrative offices and more, and then there are the two wings. The left wing is the boys' dorms, and the right is the girls.

In the case of Saint Francis Children's Home, it's half a mile between wings to deter boys from going to the girls' side, and vice versa. This entire half-mile stretch is comprised completely of one long, massive building. Maybe now this gives you an idea why I likened it to being like a castle at the beginning of all this.

Whenever one wishes to make a trek like that, it takes careful, precise planning... And an early exit to get in, explore, and be back before dawn. In normal circumstances, that shouldn't take long but it does because of all the stealth and timing involved to miss any security patrolling the area in between. For this reason, the rooftops are the best for everything.

Honestly, I can't quite explain to myself why I want to know about them... Though I've never seen new arrivals actually arriving, I always just see them sulking sadly through the elaborately decorated halls until one day they disappear with their adoptive families to hopefully live happily ever after. Witnessing the horror of separating a child from their parent hit me on a different level. When I was put into care, I was really too young to remember much. At three years old, I can remember a few things, but most of the memories are blurry. I can remember places, colors, events... But not faces. I can see the bodies of the people with me, but their faces are blurry.

Seeing those boys abandoned by their father has struck a chord with me, and I can't help but sympathize with them... Oddly, I want to get to know them and learn more about where they come from.

What kind of life did they lead outside these walls? What kind of things have they lived through and seen? And most importantly, how, and why were they dropped off at four in the morning?

All these things will hopefully be resolved with tomorrow night's research. I don't need any time to think it over, I've already made up my mind and when I do that, I tend to stick to the plan at hand like glue.

This is out of the ordinary for me... To anyone outside my sacred inner-circle, I'm quiet and timid and hate confrontation. If I can avoid talking to anyone and everyone, I will. I don't go out seeking people that interest me and demand them to tell me every peril in their life... Yet here I am, my mind lit up with ideas and my soul burning with a curious desire to speak with them.


	2. Morning After

I missed the first alarm... And the second one, too. I woke up feeling groggy, and when I heard Fran shout the time at me, I was off my ass and on my feet in an instant. I darted around my bed, still wearing yesterday's clothes, trying to yank up my sheets and blankets to tidy up my bed. Like most things here, there is punishment for unmade beds. Luckily it's not as brash as beating knuckles with a wooden board, but scrubbing the tile of the main hall is equally as grueling. They offer chores as a form of punishment to build up character and integrity, but all I've ever felt afterward was tired and annoyed that I'd gotten into a position where I had to scrub the floor while the rest of the population watched.

"Missy, you're late!" Fran told me as she pulled her hair back into a quick ponytail, her white blouse buttoned to her throat and hanging baggily on her frame to hide any kind of curvature she may have had underneath. Mind you, Fran is seventeen. She is also one of the few people I feel like I can call my friend in this place. She and Lena are the only girls in my room that I get along with, and they're the only ones who stop the others from attacking me.

She hurried herself to get out the door and down to breakfast. If I wasn't already aware of how late I was, I definitely do now. I was still rubbing the sleep from my eyes as I stumbled after the other late-risers down the staircase, feeling like a right-pile of shit after the adventurous evening I'd had.

Once the stairs opened into a wider, long hall with high carved ceilings featuring the marble carvings of glaring angels, the crowd disbursed into different directions. I walk briskly towards the lunchroom, quick to slow down to an agonizing walk whenever a Sister would walk by.

The ugly black Mary-Janes all us girls had to wear clicked obnoxiously on the checkered tile as I briskly made my way to my destination. To my relief, no one stopped me in the halls, demanding to know why I'd been out, or saying that they caught me as I was leaving or entering. I've always been very careful when sneaking out, and was only caught once but at the time I'd had a great excuse. I don't really care to repeat the incident, though.

To say this place is a prison is unfair. It really isn't that bad, it's just the many aspects of it that make it an undesirable place to spend your time. Between the untrustable children living there and the swift but improper punishment for wrong-doing, the place is a breeding ground for havoc.

Having that one small window every now and again to sneak out explore was my personal reward for putting up with it all. All day, every day, we're in classes learning languages, history, and about the Catholic religion. Between all the worship, studying, and walking from class to class, by the end of the day there is no time left to go soak up the aesthetic gothic style of the manor, and I've been here thirteen years.

I followed the last of the girls into the lunchroom and lined up along the wall feeling tired and self-conscious that the prying eyes would realize what I'd been up to last night. I put on a timid smile and act as cool and calm as I could even though my raging anxiety was telling me they all knew.

I was tugging the hem of my skirt downwards when one of the Sisters joined the line behind me and began to make polite small talk, asking how I slept, how studies were going, and so on. I answer these to the best of my abilities while trying to act as normal as possible. It's weird how hard it is to act normal when you're hiding something. You do it every day for years but can't do it properly when something depends on it.

Sister Marie asked about my Bible study, and I explain to her that it's a nice outing, although I leave out that I feel madly out of place there and haven't attended in two weeks. I mentally cross my heart and apologize for the sin.

"Oh dear! What's happened to your skirt, Missy?"

She leans back to get a better look at the damage and my heart leaps into my throat and I silently panic, pretending to look back and be shocked. It does shock me to see that the damage is worse than I originally thought.

"Oh..." I trail off when no logical response comes to mind.

"Oh?" She inquires in disbelief, "Missy, how can you rip a big hole into six inches of trim and not notice? Take it to the maids quarters after lunch and have them stitch it for you, please."

I nod, "Yes, Sister Marie."

The panic subsides as soon as I get my food and book it out of line to a secluded two-person table near the back. I don't enjoy company because it means that I have to figure out awkward conversation to fill the fifteen minute time frame. But, as I said before, Fran and Lena are my closest friends here, so once they spot me sitting alone, they both relocate to my table and drag over an extra chair.

"You look tired, Missy." Fran comments knowingly, tucking a strand of dark blonde hair behind her ear that fell free of her ponytail. Considering the fact that she is only seventeen years old, she's beyond her years in character and wisdom, coming off as a wise mother to all the younger girls, but not at all in an annoying or pressuring way. She's like a guardian on a more relatable level than the nuns.

"You left last night," She comments as she spreads butter across her toast, her green eyes fixed on the task, her tone nonchalant. "but you came back quick. Did something happen?"

I was dumb to think Fran didn't notice. Even dumber to not think Lena would notice, too... She has insomnia and probably wasn't even asleep by the time I left.

Lena shoots me a knowing smile. "Off on your adventures?"

I bite on my lip while I think of a good response.

"You don't have to stress it, hun, I know you've been sneakin' out for a long time," Fran says, her Southern accent showing through. Here she is having breakfast at a gothic Catholic orphanage in New York, miles away from her roots and former family. It seems there are people here from every walk of life.

"at least since I got roomed with you. I noticed that you left pretty frequently during the night, and I considered informing the Sisters once, but then I remembered somthin' my Mother used to say."

"What's that?" Lena asks.

"Everyone's gotta make their own mistakes an' decisions. S'not our job to choose for them, though, we can be concerned... I was concerned, Missy, but I know you wouldn't do it if you didn't know what you're doin', so I have trust in you."

"Trust?"

"That you won't get hurt, and that you'll return before dawn," she says with a small prideful smile. "Anyways, I'd be lying if I didn't say I've snuck out, too."

Lena laughs in disbelief, "When did you miss-do-no-wrong sneak out? And to where?"

Fran is trying to conceal her smile as she chews, her eyes lit up like sunlight and rainbows as she finally coughs it out.

"The boys' dorm," She giggles, and Lena gasps. "you guys know Liam Ridley, right? Tall boy with blonde hair?"

"Yes!" Lena laughs hysterically in a hushed whisper, giddily bouncing in her seat. "You're with him?!"

Fran sways her hand back and forth to indicate that it's not a set thing. "Not yet, but we've been... Talking for a while now."

Lena snorts, "Talking, she calls it." She snickers, "Didja kiss him yet?"

Fran's lips press into a thin line to hold back a smile, and we already take it as a confirmation. "Yes, an' might I say, he is good."

Lena loses it, and almost gains the attention of a nearby nun who is becoming increasingly more interested in our hushed conversation about all the house rules we've broken under their noses in the cover of darkness.

I tap Lena's shoulder and mouth sister's watching to her. Immediately the conversation shifts into an innocent one made up of codewords to describe the same things we were talking about before.

"So the questions on the test were really good, like really good, right? I had to visit the classroom three times last month to get additional workbooks." Fran elaborates in code.

"Are you still working on the questions?" Lena asks with a gleeful smile.

Fran nods proudly, "Actually yes... I asked Sister Sarah if I could drop by three days from now and grab another question pack. We have plans to do study sessions more often."

"How often?" I ask, drinking my orange juice.

"We're aiming at once a week, but it depends on her schedule..."

The woman walks off when she realizes that we're doing nothing worthy of busting or making a scene over. Fran leans in closer and so do I and Lena. "The older boys are planning a party on Friday night in the storeroom building. Liam invited me to come... Do you guys want to go, too?"

I look to Lena, excited by the prospect of sneaking out with friends to do something different. If we did get busted, I know some secret back routes to get us all back to our dormitory in record-time before they could realize we were some of the kids gone.

"I'm done, Lena?"

Lena thinks about it for a moment. "...Do you know if Eric Crowley will be there?"

Fran nods quickly, "Heck yeah, he's Liam's best friend. Lena, do you like him? You should come! It's a great opportunity to branch out without the prying eyes of the sisters."

Lena agrees, and her and Fran begin discussing plans when my attention is drawn elsewhere. I peeked up from my breakfast and saw Father Duffy at the rear of the breakfast line, his hands on the shoulders of the latest additions. He looked like a proud but uncomfortable parent escorting them through the line. The older boy who I knew to be Samuel because of the Sisters screeching it at him last night, wore the mask of irritation and annoyance well, but it didn't conceal the fear in his eyes as his gaze flickered around the massive lunchroom.

Being new must be awful because you immediately feel that everyone is out to get you solely because you're new, but another thing I've learned is that they're not. Like I said before, there are so many new arrivals that come and go that no one bothers busying themselves with spreading gossip around. In fact, no one stared at the brothers beyond a few glances. Still, Samuel looks paranoid and annoyed to be there.

I peeked up every now and again to document their progress in the line, and then one more time when Father Duffy wedged the two of them into a busy table filled with boisterous boys who were screeching and wailing and throwing shit around. As soon as Father Duffy made his presence known, they became a row of tiny stoic soldiers with nothing but politeness to give.

They smiled politely at Samuel and his younger brother, Nathan. They seemed to also be making small talk with them, which made me feel hopeful that they had been quickly accepted into the clique of seventeen-year-olds on their last year of being here. So much time spent in care has caused them to become restless over the years.

I watch from afar as the two awkwardly take their seats, squeezing in between two big boys. Their discomfort turned to panic once Father Duffy excused himself and left them there alone.

With Father Duffy gone, there was no peacemaker to ensure everything would be okay for them. The boys' demeanor completely changed when left alone with the new kids. I winced when the boys started tugging on Samuel's sleeve and getting into his brothers face. They both kept their eyes down, doing their best to avoid the banter around them. Father Duffy was wrong to leave them there alone, and he'd soon realize it.

The warning signs came as Samuel's face grew redder, and from the flexing of his jaw and his constant blinking, I can tell that he's trying hard to control an outburst of anger.

From several tables away, I can hear those boys using their high-pitched mocking voices to ask them both stupid, trivial questions.

"Didn't Daddy and Mummy want you anymore?" "Are you problem kids?" "Were you accidents?"

"WHY DON'T YOU SHUT THE HELL UP?!" Roared across the lunchroom, and every conversation from the hundreds of people present fell silent as they turned in their seats to get a better look at the drama. My head jerked up as well, strands of strawberry blonde hair falling to conceal my face enough to view with discretion.

Samuel had risen to his feet by this time, and was towering over one of the boys looking full-ready to knock him on his ass. In his clenched fist was the withered collar of Wilson Bradley's pastel blue shirt.

"Don't touch or talk to me or my brother again!" He screamed into his face, his skin turning a deep shade of red. He shoved Wilson backward with two hands to his chest and dropped his hands to his sides, balling them into tight fists.

"Come on, Nathan." He snapped at his brother, grabbing his arm and towing him towards the exit as the Sisters scrambled to fix the issue and understand what had happened. Samuel and Nathan were almost to the door when Father Duffy stepped in front of him, his hands perched on his hips in disappointment.

"Are you happy now?" Samuel snapped at him, shoving past with his brother in tow.

Quiet, embarrassed conversation began to buzz around the lunchroom. Kids ducked their heads to whisper about the outburst. Among the intermingling conversation, I picked out a few choice words like freak, weirdo, and psycho. The adjustment process had just gotten a lot harder for the pair now that he'd painted a fresh red target on his back.

Fran hunkered down in her seat looking nervous. "Poor kid. I heard that him and his brother are new here. Father Duffy made a mistake putting them with the 17 club." She sighed, shaking her head. I decided to withhold the information I had about the pair for now.

"Everyone back to your seats!" Sister Marie called above the conversations. Another Sister was making her way towards the instigating table to collect the culprits.

Not wanting to be an asset to the problem, I averted my gaze and kept my head down. Today has just grown a hell of a lot weirder for everyone involved. Of course the faculty are trained to deal with troubled youth, it comes with the scene of running a religion-based orphanage... But out of every twenty new arrivals, maybe one causes a scene like this. Over 1000 boys and girls in this place, two separate lunch halls to contain them all in the morning, and still, this one incident in this room has just become the latest news.

I feel regret now for not approaching them straight away and warning them to keep their heads down to make life easier for them. Something tells me it's not in Samuel's nature to take advice from lowly girls like myself, and he enjoys making mistakes before thinking about consequences, just like any other teenage boy does.

Another ten minutes pass and it's acceptable for me to now leave and make my way towards my first study. I rise and say my goodbyes to Lena and Fran, and take a moment to ask Fran if she will be seeing Liam before Friday.

"I hope so," She muses, "but if I don't see him before then, then all the more a surprise when we show up to their little get-together. Looking forward to the weekend, girls!"

I laugh and nod, excusing myself to go ditch my trash. I do so as quietly and mindlessly, and as easily as I can, I hope to slip through the day without any more incidents.

~~~

My second study session of the day is History, and it's right before lunch. During History, when I was seated an aisle over from the row of windows to my left, a dove flew into the glass of the window. With a resounding boom similar to the sound of muted thunder, it fell outside. The girls squealed and the boys made sounds of disgust. I looked to my left at the window and saw what had them wigging out. A small patch of bright red blood.

It struck me with a weird feeling. Fear ran down my spine as I stared at it, sensing that it is some ominous bad omen or something. The teacher, Sister Hippin, sighed and used the phone on the wall to call for maintenance to come clean up the mess.

All through History, it held my attention and I couldn't quite figure out why. Even when the janitor showed up outside the window with his bucket of sprays and wipes, and began to clean the minor imperfection on the outer surface of glass, the feeling stuck with me.

Turning my attention to the chalkboard at the front of the room, I blink, realizing I hadn't been listening to a word Sister Hippin had said all class. From her chicken-scratch handwriting, I could make out that our study was about European pirates of the 16th century.

"- Captain Henry Avery spent most of his career operating on the Atlantic and Indian oceans. He used various alias during his life to hide his identity when working in regions where he was a wanted man. One of the most popular was his alter-ego, Benjamin Bridgeman."

Famous pirates and their treasure was what got me into my hobby of map making years ago. I've always fascinated by them.

"Oh, the hour is up." Sister Hippin says when she notices the hands on the clock are slightly over the 12:00 mark. I get up to gather my things slowly, feeling like I am in a daze. I don't know if I'm just tired or what...

We are excused for lunch, which is luckily an uneventful thing. Once I'd finished up there, Sister Marie caught me in the grand hall to remind me to go see the maids quarters about my skirt.

"I've already arranged it with the offices, they know you cannot make your writing or History II classes and your teachers has been informed." She tells me as she walks towards the exit, a stack of research books in her arms from her own class. "Be back for your world language studies at three, Missy."

"Yes, Sister," I nod quickly, "thank you." and begin making my way out of the grand hall out to the courtyard.

During lunch, I'd observed the absence of Samuel and Nathan. Either they had been placed in the other more docile lunchroom, or they were privately dining with Father Duffy himself as he tries to take the troubled boys under his wing... Or they'd lost their lunch rights altogether because of Samuel's outburst.

The maid's quarters are located on the other side of the estate. That's why Sister Marie excused me for almost two hours because the walking to and from alone would easily take forty-five minutes. It's a nice walk, and the flower trees are all blooming in the gardens this time of year.

The rip in my skirt had become something of a spectacle during class. Many asked what had happened to it, and through my many responses, I got really good at acting as dumbfounded and oblivious as the rest of them. I would have been much better off to have remembered to change my skirt this morning.

I stepped out of the massive main building and walked down the empty sidewalk that cut through various courtyards and flower gardens. The entire property of Saint Francis Home could easily be its own little city. It has it's own parks, gardens, and a few odds and ends shops tucked into the unused buildings for the kids to use since we seldom get to leave and go outside the gates.

The grand cathedral is the center of the show, and serves as the main worship space. It towers high above all the other stone buildings around it and is elegantly decorated with sculptures and murals depicting different biblical events.

No one else is outside, and it feels nice. It's almost like my nighttime adventures because I don't have an escort with me... I'm surprised Sister Marie didn't insist on someone taking me in fear that I may make a run for the walls and escape... If I ever found my way out, that is.

I can see the domed roof of the maids' quarters ahead beyond some office buildings constructed from the same color of dark grey stone as the rest of them. I should be able to say "Oh no, because I am just a lowly child here, I've never seen the maids' quarters, but... That'd be a lie... And a sin.

The further away the buildings are and the harder they are to get to decides how likely I am to go seeking them out. I've actually only been to the maids' quarters twice in the past, and my visit was quite brief because the building itself lacked the architectural beauty of the others. It was more simple had a Victorian style to it, indicating that it was probably built in a different era from the rest of the towers and turrets.

I was startled when I heard the pounding of shoes on concrete behind me. I threw a look over my shoulder and saw Nathan approaching me. I moved to the side of the sidewalk to give him space to pass, but he slowed at my side, coming just to my shoulder in height.

"Hello, I'm Nathan." He introduced himself, politely sticking his hand towards me. This took me off-guard because I was not expecting a formal greeting from this child. I slow to a stop and reach out to shake his hand. "Hello, Nathan. My name is Missy."

"Missy?"

"It's a nickname." I shrug, "What's up?"

He turns to look behind us, the sun beating down on the concrete caused the sidewalk to glow bright white. Finally, he turns to look up at me again. "Have you seen my brother Sam?"

"Samuel? Your brother?"

He nods. For looking almost eleven, he still has definied, cherub-like features that make his face glow like an adorable child. He has bright blue eyes and dark, curly brown hair, his looks are very similar to that of his brother's.

"I'm sorry, I haven't seen him. When did you see him last?"

"He was running this way." He point in the direction I am headed and I feel dread in my chest. This boy's brother and only means of a life raft in this place has bailed on him. "I don't know where he went, he said he'd be back quick but it's been an hour and I don't want to get him into trouble with Father Duffy."

I nod in understanding. He's already had enough run-ins with Father Duffy. Too many and the pair of them would be kicked out soon enough. "I'm headed this way already if you'd like to come with me... We might see him on the way." I offer and Nathan thinks about it for a moment before nodding in agreement. "Hopefully." He sighs.

"Okay..." I nod.

We start off walking in silence and I'm busy keeping my eyes peeled for the familiar face of his brother, and the longer we walk, the more annoyed I am with the boy I've never even met. Nathan doesn't seem too bothered, though... Maybe just a bit stressed.

"Does your brother run off a lot?" I ask him five minutes after our first encounter. He shrugs "Sometimes when he's mad... Which is a lot."

"How old are you?"

"I'm eleven." He says proudly, sticking out his chest. "How old are you?"

"Me? I'm sixteen."

"My brother is seventeen... His birthday was one month ago."

"Did he have a good birthday?"

Nathan thinks about it before responding. "I don't know..." He admits, "He wasn't home."

I feel bad for him. His entire life has been uprooted and now he's an orphan with his missing brother. I decide that there's a better time to ask my pressing questions and I change the subject.

"So what is your last name?"

"It's Morgan... Nathan Morgan." He smiles up at me, aand I grin back. Somehow the life this boy has lived hasn't been enough to completely erase his joy for minor things like meeting new people. It's refreshing to see someone so lively. I am about open my mouth to ask another question when someone starts to shout. I jerk my head up and look ahead of us, and see an angry Samuel barreling towards us. I feel a strike of fear in my heart as he thunders towards me.

He grabs Nathan's arm and pulls him from my side, glaring at him then me in betrayal and annoyance "Nathan! What the hell are you doing out here? What are you doing with her?"

He looks me over with wary annoyance in his brown eyes. "You were supposed to stay inside."

"I came looking for you because you were taking a while," Nathan began to explain his motives for disobeying his brother, but Samuel was not having it. With an exasperated sigh, he interrupts him.

"When I tell you to do something, you have to do it, Nathan. All we've got left is each other, and in a place like this, they're just waiting to tear us to shreds."

"But-"

"But nothing, Nathan. I'm doing this to protect you." He crouches before his brother, placing a firm hand on his shoulder, telling him something else in a hushed voice to keep me out of it.

I look Samuel in the eyes, trying to get a read on who he actually is, but he hides it well behind his display of bravado and ignorance. His eyes flicker over to meet mine and they narrow. "Is everyone in this place a nosy punk?" He snaps, rising to his feet quickly.

"Excuse me?"

"It's fucking rude to eavesdrop, genius." He snaps at me, towing his brother away with him towards the main building again. Nathan stumbles a bit and looks back at me, waving enthusiastically as he goes.

"Bye, Missy!"

I raise my hand weakly to say goodbye because I have been left speechless. I'm not sure if I'm more annoyed by how he carries himself like everyone is out to get him, or the way he tries to turn his brother against everyone and uses him as a weapon.

I choke out with as much confidence as I can "Bye, Samuel Morgan."

His steps skip but he doesn't stop, nor does he look back. He keeps pulling Nathan behind him.

"I won't be deflated by a rugged brat." I mutter to myself, straightening my shoulders and carrying on down the path, by myself now. Of course, though, I feel quite deflated.

Now that I have met the infamous Samuel and gotten a taste of his raw and undiluted anger, I feel as though I am shrinking back from the need to know more... Perhaps in his brief screaming fit I'd learned all I needed to about the eldest Morgan boy.


	3. The Night We Met

After I'd gotten my skirt stitched up, the day was completely uneventful. I finished my studies, did any homework I'd been given, then went to my worship study at the cathedral. Afterward, I joined Lena and Fran for dinner in the lunchroom.

That night, I hugged the tangled wad of my bed sheets to my chest, lying on my side waiting for the other girls to settle down and get ready for bed. Since my encounter with the most unusual Samuel Morgan, I'd been feeling a bit let down. In my mind, he had the potential to be a nice person... But his harsh and judging comments towards me rubbed me the wrong way on his overall view on anyone besides himself and his brother.

I'm more annoyed with myself if I'm going to be honest. I hate the feeling I have churning in my heart... That sickening feeling that I know to be the lovey-dovey essence of a crush. 

No. No no no. I don't like him. He's rude, and uncouth, and I haven't got a place in my life for a troublesome teen boy. 

I don't engage with boys, they don't offer me any kind of intellectual interest. They whistle and cause havoc and for that reason, I never paid them much attention. Anytime anyone new shows up, they hold my attention long enough for me to see they're not worth it. 

I writhe around in my silky old-granny style night dress to flip onto my other side to face the wall. The girls' mindless chatter carried on quietly behind me until Sister Karen came in to guide us in our nighttime prayers and to turn out the lights.

"Goodnight, children." She smiled as she left the room. I guess no one here notices the passing of time that leads to aging in any of us. Many of us would be leaving in the next year when we'd turn eighteen and were legally adults and could care for ourselves. I suppose it is kinda endearing that we're still kids in their eyes. 

After I rise from the edge of my bed from praying, I lie back down, my knees sore and red now. I curl back up in a cocoon of blankets and sheets and close my eyes. In my head, I'm still trying to decide whether or not I want to stay up late to go across to the boys' dormitory. The prospect of it no longer holds the same level of interest that it did earlier this morning. I now feel more like a kicked puppy about the whole thing.

In the bleak darkness of the long quiet room, I can feel the cool breeze coming in through Amelia's window, and soon enough after about ten minutes, the first chorus of snores start. In another fifteen, the sound of someone's feet padding across the floor peaks my attention. I perk up a bit and listen to the slow and calculated steps coming towards my side of the room. I close my eyes anyways even though they can't see me, and breathe deeply to pretend I am in a deep sleep.

A few moments of hesitation follow before I hear the window to my right squeaking open. I recognize it immediately as the one I always go out of. I always choose that one because right outside of it is a big stone gargoyle to hold onto until you get your bearings. 

With my back towards the escapist, I can't identify them. I wait and listen to them sliding out across the wooden sill onto the stone ledge outside. I count to twenty in my head before rolling onto my other side, exaggerating the movements to make enough noise to disguise the sound of me rising to my feet off the squeaky mattress.

I go to the window and poke my head out, the breeze blows my hair out and tangles it in the pale purple curtains tossing in the wind. Just as I clear my view, I see the silhouette of someone sliding around the edge of the siding onto the roof of the administrative building.

It's none of my business what they're up to, but I already have plans to go out tonight, and with those falling through and me with nothing else to do with my evening, I see no reason not to further my agenda as an annoying, nosy asshole. 

I reach over above my bed and unhook the knitted long cardigan and put it on. It's long beige tail drapes all the way to the back of my knees and the long woven sleeves offer substantial warmth on nights like these with the brisk spring wind has to remind you of its existence. 

I lift myself out onto the stone ledge, the wind whipping through the room from Amelia's window to this one causing me to almost lose my balance and over the edge. I lean back onto the ledge and grip it for several seconds before slowly turning around and lowering the window behind me, carefully sliding a chunk of brick under the edge to keep it from locking in my absence. 

If it wasn't me that ruins my plan, it'll be the other girls waking up to the freezing cold and noticing the window left open and causing a stir until they notice that two are gone. That's not exactly the adventure I have in mind for this evening.

I slink along the siding silently, scooting along the six-inch space between the wall and the great fall below. 

It takes me far too long to get across, so when I finally swing out onto the administrative roof, there is no one in sight and no trace of where they've gone... 

"Oh..." I murmur when it finally sinks in, and a sly, knowing smile slides across my face. "Fran." 

Of course it's Fran visiting Liam. She'd hinted at it, but didn't admit to it. Probably for the sake of keeping it secret. I don't blame her for wanting it secret, I love her and Lena dearly but look at me, I never told them of my adventures. 

I feel bad now for prying. Fran is one of the few people I respect enough to give privacy to. If it was that brute Broom-Hilda from my dorm, I'd have trailed that bitch to the end of the Earth in search of information to use maliciously. That girl has no right treating people the way she does, snapping bones and pushing people down when she isn't getting her way. Granted, by now the Sisters should have kicked her ass out or put her into solitary for a bit. It might've done her some good. 

I look down the roof, but I see no trace of the tall Southern girl. I take a few steps back and lean against the stone wall, looking up to the sky to at least appreciate the moon and stars while I'm here. I have to admit, it's an exceptional night. Seldom do you get to see the moon and stars so clearly, normally smog and pollution tucks them out of view, but their blurred glow remains. 

Shifting my weight, I move out of the shadows and walk across the rooftop, my bare feet gracing over the rough surface of the stone. I stepped around the various air conditioning boxes and glass-covered skylights as I made my way towards the massive clock tower sticking out of the center of the roof.

I stop for a moment to look up at it, the moonlight shining on the exposed rim of the bronze bell hanging inside behind the clock face. 11:15. From anywhere on the property you can see this clocktower. Its grandness dates back to when the home was first built over two-hundred years ago and it's held children all these years.

I wonder how many kids have called this place home in those two-hundred years? How many got adopted, kicked out, or just left... How many died here? 

That thought chases a chill down my spine. Colds, disease, you know at least one person died while in care here... Especially in the older times. But now? Maybe it's still relevant and the Sisters just never bother telling anyone that the child has passed. They just say they've been adopted and we will not be seeing them again and we settle for that answer because it lines up with what we believe to be normal.

This theory starts to make me feel paranoid. How often does it happen right under our noses and we never knew? The secret inner-operations of the home hold endless mysteries to discover. Perhaps that's my next adventure...

I press my hands against it and it's cold and damp, leaving a chill on my skin when I pull away. I sigh and start to hum. A random tune works its way into my mind as I stroll around on the rooftop, unseen or known to the world, merely a speck of dust in the air on a night like tonight. 

"Oh Lord, I come to you at two AM with tears and my heart in knots. He hasn't come back, I don't think he will... He's out on a bend, gettin' another fill. Her love is better, her love is pure, he loves me less than he loves her... It's so hard to stay hopeful when he's so unfaithful..." I sing quietly, walking towards the edge of the roof, daring to peer over the edge to the ground below, the gardens and trees swaying in the rough cool wind. 

"Oh Lord, oh Lord, why'd you punish me? I believe he's behavin' unfaithfully. Out again, always the same. With the girl with no name..."

I hum the notes in between fixing my eyes on the towers and turrets spread out as far as I can see across the massive piece of land. Underneath the cool blue glow of the moon it is eery. 

"I tried to give him more, and I tried to convince him so... But our love's not the same as it was so long ago..."

I place a foot up on the decorative stone blocks bordering the edge of the roof and step up onto it, reaching out before me to place my palms on the wings of the massive marble carving of an angel mounted on the wall below. I run my hands over the smooth surface, tapping my fingernails on the stone.

"I want to love him, but he won't let me. Lord help me, let me be free. I love this man too much to lose him to someone else's love but I must confess unto you, there is nothing left in this world for me to do."

I step onto the platform of concrete just behind the head of the angel and lean against it, spreading my arms at my sides, the wind slapping the fabric of my nightdress again my legs, my cardigan fluttering behind me like torn beige butterfly wings saturated pale blue under the moon. The wind pulls strands of strawberry blonde hair free of my nighttime braids, making a mess of the locks Sister Catherine spent the better half of an hour on. I had sat patiently at the foot of my bed for a half hour while she carefully organized the strands into neat plaits for my back. The braids also shorten the appearance of my hair. It naturally comes to my lower back, but in the tight braids, it's just below my shoulder blades. It's part of the rules that if your hair is long enough to be braided, it should be before you go to bed, and re-braided in the morning for breakfast and studies. 

Honestly, I don't know what they expect to achieve with knotting up the kids' hair day and night. It's not achieving anything and if it's about the boys, well, they don't even see us at night to worry themselves over something so trivial. 

"Aye, it's you, mysterious figure in the night, angel of the shadows. The welcoming committee in this hell-hole. You gonna tell me your name?"

I whip around in an instant, pressing my back against the big, broad marble wings behind me. Cornered against the wall, I feel like a trapped animal.

Stepping forward from the darkness comes a tall boy wearing dark jeans and a pastel blue t-shirt over a grey long sleeve shirt. 

I breathe, feeling my heart rate slow knowing it's a familiar face... Albeit not one I want to meet on the roof.

I am backlit by the moon, and he is unable to make out my face. "Who are ya, then? Do you just enjoy hanging out on rooftops and snooping?" He walks slowly towards me, trying to analyze me the best he can from my shadowy corner, his face giving away that he feels just as nervous as a cornered animal as I do. "Well, did you at least enjoy the show?" 

Sarcasm hangs heavily in his tone as he says this, the moonlight illuminating his brown, tired eyes. He's seen enough shit in the last two days to serve him with a lifetime of nightmares. 

I inch along the edge of the statue, deciding that I do not want this confrontation and I'll make a run for it, even though I am not sure how I'll get back to my room with that long, narrow space to scoot through. I'll fall to my death before I even reach the sill. 

My mind is racing for an alternative course of action that doesn't involve me being near him for a long period of time. Just him knowing I've snuck out and that I am the one that comes up here and was up here the night of his arrival is bad enough to get me into some serious trouble with the Sisters.

"Are you mute? Deaf? Did you hear me?" concern and confusion color his tone as he approaches me apprehensively. 

I lunge up and dart past him for the other side of the roof where I could slide down on the bronze flagpole, but he reaches out and grabs my arm in a surprisingly firm grip, and my own momentum rips me back to his side.

I glare at him, seething with anger and annoyance. "Let go of me!" I snap, smacking his hand away. He gets a good look at my face now and lets go of me, taking a step backward so there's a lengthy gap between us. 

"Missy, right?" 

I bite on my lip and finally nod meekly. I cross my arms tightly across my chest, my gaze flitting everywhere but to his eyes. 

"Nathan was with you this afternoon." 

I nod, already knowing the adventures of the earlier day. "You're Samuel."

"Well, I go by Sam. Samuel is too formal, you know?"

He smiles for a moment and it brings glitter of charismatic charm to his face, which quickly fades away when the conversation falls into awkward silence, leaving us standing five feet apart with the wind whipping our clothes against our skin.

"If I offended you this afternoon, I apologize." He says when I keep looking down and keep quiet. 

I look him in the eyes "Your delivery was a bit blunt, yes." I admit, a tiny smile curling the corners of my lips. 

He sighs and claps his hand against his legs, taking another step back, turning as he does so to walk away. "Well, I'm still adjusting to this new onslaught of crap. What about you? How long have you been here?"

"If the Sisters hear you cursing like that, they'll have a bar of soap in your mouth before you can even blink," I laugh, walking after him, "I've been here thirteen years."

His thick, dark brows rise in surprise which dissipates and he shrugs, looking down as he leans over the brick ledge bordering the rooftop. "It's not surprising, honestly. There's too many kids here for them all to live happily ever after. How old are you, anyway?"

"I am sixteen," I respond. "Nathan said you were seventeen?"

"Regretfully, yeah."

"  
I shift my jaw around, not sure how to respond to his odd combination of sarcastic, self-depreciating quips and legitimate jokes and pieces of meaningful conversation  
I shift my jaw around, not sure how to respond to his odd combination of sarcastic, self-depreciating quips and legitimate jokes and pieces of meaningful conversation. I've never associated with anyone for an extended period of time that would warrant the opportunity to get to know a sadistically charming person. 

My gaze flickers over briefly to meet his brown eyes, and he's softened his expression considerably. For seventeen, he still has a some of childish features left on his face. Although his cheekbones are more defined, the roundness of his chin gives away the innocent side to his brutish Boston attitude.

"So... That would have made you what? Three when you got here?" 

I nod, remaining reserved and polite.

"Have you ever been outside of these walls?"

"Very briefly, yes." I respond with a shrug. "Nothing more than taking the subway to and from other homes and churches for special events. It's not like we all pick up and go to McDonalds on weekends."

"That's what I have to look forward to?" He pouts jokingly, wringing his hands in knots, holding them over the edge of the stone ledge he's leaning on. 

I nod and laugh. "Yes, your future consists of bland oatmeal and ruler whippings."

He laughs, and then his expression shifts to one of deep thought. "You never think about how much you'll miss the minor things until you don't have them anymore. Just the luxury of going to that greasetrap alone was enough to make life worth living in comparison to this lovely place." 

The wind tosses his chestnut brown hair and the moon makes his eyes glow. I nervously gnaw on my lower lip and lean on my elbows against the stone wall, clasping my hands together and looking out across the sea of Catholic buildings boasting about our religion. 

He looks over at me for a moment, then back up to the moon. I feel my cheeks stupidly reddening because my childish mind doesn't know how to handle being around boys without turning into a chaotic mess. 

"So, where in the world are you from?" I ask him.

"Can't ya tell?" He laughs, and of course, I already know. His accent betrays him as Boston-born straight away, but I want the specifics.

"Me and Nathan grew up in Rockport. It's not too far from Boston." He shrugs, "It's a small, stupid town with not much to do. What about you?"

I snort "You really don't need to waste time asking me questions about my past, there's no answers to be given." I laugh although the truth is it's tragic, but at this point I've gotten so used to the not knowing.

"Alright..." It's his turn to feel awkward. 

"I remember places and things, but my memory at three years of age was not impressive, to say the least. I don't have any memories to satisfy mine or anyone else's desire to know more about me, honestly."

I reach back to tug all my loose hair around the side of my neck, restraining it so I can look at him clearly without my view interrupted by flying strands. "What's your backstory? If you don't mind me asking, of course. I know it's a bit personal." 

"Which part of it isn't public?" He muses with disappointment in his tone as his gaze skims over the buildings in front of us. "Ever since my Mom took a job as a historian for a wealthy woman, everything my family did was important and gossip-worthy, right down until my Dad tossed us in here last night."

His brow furrows and he bites on his lip in deep thought for a few moments before continuing. "I remember my family being very close-knit in the early days, at least right before I turned thirteen. Nathan was only seven and we were the stars in my parents' sky. They doted on us each day, all the time. We grew up learning the history my Mom loved to study, and to us it was normal for our dinnertime conversations to be about Sir Francis Drake and his possible heirs."

I must admit, I didn't expect this much complexity early-on. 

"The older we got, the harder everything got. By the time I'd turned fifteen, things really started to slide out of place. My Mom..."

He shifts his jaw and locks it, the muscles in his neck standing out as he tenses up. "She was diagnosed with an emotional disorder that caused her to flip around from one emotion to the next in under half a second... So when she later discovered our Dad was cheating on her, it resulted in her having the ultimate mental breakdown."

He purses his lips and lifts his head, his eyes saying that he was so used to this part of the story now. "It was just me and Nathan mostly... We fed ourselves, did the shopping, cleaning, and got ourselves ready for school in the morning. Dad was God knows where and Mom was bed-ridden for weeks. During those weeks, her work suffered, but her employer sympathized with us and funded us during our Mom's downtime, though we never met her."

"That's nice of her." I say I can't think of anything suitable enough.

"I s'pose so... Anyways, long story short, my Mom offed herself, we moved in with our Dad for seven months until he betrayed us and surrendered us to the state last night, as you saw." His gaze flickers over, and then down. 

"I'm sorry." I apologize, "Not just for everything that you and your brother have been through, but for prying last night... It wasn't any of my business, I'm sorry."

"Honestly, I'd have done the same." He chuckled. "We seem to be the same person in that regard. When we lived with my Dad, I'd sneak out at night and explore the apartment complex... Not to be a creep, but a lot'uv ladies leave their blinds open."

I stare at him wide-eyed as some unwanted visuals flash through my head. "You're disgusting!" I shout, but my seriousness is lost to laughter because I can actually see him as the peeping-tom type. 

"Anyways, my life ain't as pitiful as I'm makin' it sound. At only seventeen years of age, I've seen a lot, good and bad. I imagine you have, too, although it's probably a bit more restricted to whatever form of fun you guys have in this place."

"You're hell-bent on making this place sound boring as shit, aren't you?" I laugh.

His eyes widen, "Curse!" He points an accusing finger at me. 

"Just like anywhere, this place is polite, strict, and reserved during the day. But at night it becomes something else entirely; for those who choose to risk it all to sneak out and be bad eggs."

"Like yourself?" He scoffs.

"Actually I'm more on the reserved side of the scale in regards to my activities. A lot of the girls sneak into the boys' dorms at night."

Fran pops into my mind, but I know she's not the only shadowy figure I've encountered on this roof before, up to no good in the cover of darkness. 

"Ooh cool, the place has it's own sex-ring, too."

I laugh to hide the intense embarrassment I feel. We're similar in age and interests, and we have the same knowledge of the uncomfortable topics, yet I already want to distance myself just by mentioning the deed. 

He throws me a charming smile "What about you? What do you remember?"

"What do you wish to know? It's like I said, there's not much to be said save for the obvious stuff."

"Where are you from?"

I shrug, "I have a memory in my head of my parents' farmhouse... I want to say somewhere in Kansas or Iowa, but I'm not sure to be honest. It's all very distant to me now."

"Okay, so the past isn't an approachable topic. How about now? What hobbies do you have?"

"Are you serious?" I shoot him a look, laughing humorlessly, "We're already going to that cliche?"

"Come on, out with it." he nods, gesturing a hand towards me. I huff a sigh and turn back to face the view in front of us, leaning forward on my crossed arms. 

"I enjoy map-making, history, and studying every tiny detail of everyone in this place. Through my studies, I could tell you the finest, most obscure details about anyone here. Take your pick."

It was his turn now. His brow furrowed in thought for a moment before responding. "Father Duffy."

"Father Ryan Duffy has been employed here for twenty-four years. He's married, has three kids, and his house is thirteen miles from here. He decided to turn his life around after a drunk-driving accident gone wrong in his teens and he's been sober, good, and pure since. What else?"

Sam laughs, throwing his head back, genuine happiness on his face. "Holy crap, how do you know all of that?"

"Private records in his office."

He looks appalled, stepping back from the ledge with his jaw hanging open, laughing in shock. "And how the hell did you get in there?"

I blush again at how proud he sounds and I struggle to maintain the undertone of confidence in my voice. "I told you, I like map making... And schedule-memorizing. I figured out that he's not in his office after 11 at night, and usually forgets to latch his office window. It's an easy enough climb if you cut around the cathedral." 

"You are incredible!" He laughs incredulously, "A trouble-girl, I like that."

I laugh nervously, pretending to busy myself with a non-existent thread on my sweater sleeve. 

"So, history, huh? What kind?"

"Whatever we're studying... Right now, my favorite is pirates."

If he was shocked before, it's an understatement now. He stares at me wide-eyed with a slowly growing cheesy grin on his face.

"What?"

"I am a man of fortune, and I must seek my fortune." He recites and I quirk an eyebrow at him.

"That's a quote from Henry Avery." I state, surprised that he even knew it.

He nods with satisfaction. "Ay, that it is. I told you, our mom was a historian. She worked on this stuff day and night, scouring the Earth for every obscure detail regarding him and every other pirate out there. She was so excited about her work, and talked about it frequently, so from a young age both me and Nathan were very well educated regarding the matter."

I nod and look down to the ground below, noticing that across the vast inner courtyard, some lights have turned on inside the infirmary rooms near the enterance. I perk up a bit and point it out to Sam.

"...Is it unusual?" He hedges, uncertain whether or not it's problem enough for him to be as excited as me. 

I nod, "It means there's drama going down. Are you down to explore?"

"Are you always this nosy?" he jokes, but there's a concerned undertone to it. "I believe there's a term for your condition... Something about an obsessive disorder?"

"You're already giving me a medical diagnosis, so that's a good sign." I laugh as I hoist myself over the stone railing, prepared to go investigate with or without him. In the back of my mind, I'm hoping he'll be shocked by my courage, bravery, and desire to explore and he'll tag along with me. 

I lower myself onto a rusty iron awning under the roof's edge and stand back to get a look at him peering down over the edge at me. 

"Are you coming?" I gesture with my arms spread at my sides, the wind whipping my hair across my face and fluttering my clothing. He frowns in hesitation for a moment, seeming to be genuinely contemplating staying behind to stay out of trouble.

"I'll help you stay hidden if you're worried about getting caught." I deadpan.

"I can hide myself!" He snaps when he realizes that I am low-key insulting his exploration and stealth skills. With that, he launches himself over the low stone wall and lands on the shuttering awning beside me.

"Good, you have a chance to prove that now," I laugh quietly, "there's a guard posted at that gate over there. We're going to have to get sights on him before he sees us. He rotates position exactly every three minutes so you have to be swift and quiet running across there." I point to the big, empty and barren space in the center of the courtyard where for seventeen yards, there's no raised gardens, trees, bushes, trash cans or anything considerable enough to use as cover. If you're going to run across, you have to commit to it and you can't chicken out at the last second. This is his chance to prove himself as the brazen, confident boy he was the previous night when screaming in Father Duffy's face. 

I jump down and land on a small airconditioning unit hanging from an office window. I hold onto the decorative wrought iron lattice on either side of the window and swiftly jump across down to a lower edge. I turn back and offer him my hand, but he's already preparing his jump down to where I am. 

I decide against saying anything. If I start spewing endless compliments on his skill he's likely to sense the obvious in me, and although I do think he's kinda cute (I'm being totally candid here) I really don't want the potential friendship destroyed so soon by burning crushes and unreciprocated feelings. 

I reach out and hold onto the marble wings of a smaller angel statue perched on the edge of the stone by a window. I use it to steady myself and scoot around the edge of the administrative building on the thin row of bricks similar to the ones outside my dorm window. 

Sam follows quietly and swiftly, and we're making good time getting to the ground. He doesn't speak again until we've jumped down onto the roof of a small marble gazebo overrun with vines and various other vegetation. We're crouched on the domed roof, peeking out into the courtyard to get an idea of the guard's posisition.

"Is it always this much effort for you when you want to go somewhere around here?"

I shrug, not meeting his gaze. "Generally. At least the buildings you have to scale are aesthetically pleasing." 

"That's true. If nothing else, the place has got nice architecture."

"Would you like a list of important dates regarding the home?" I offer and he gives me a confused look. 

"Construction of the home first started in eighteen-"

"No, no no!" he hisses, holding his hands up. "I don't need every significant detail."

"I thought so." I chuckle quietly, turning to face him as I lower myself over the edge of the roof, kicking my bare feet below me until I get my footing between the decorative slates in the gazebo walls. I climb down quickly and clear a space for Sam as he comes down after me. 

"Follow me." I nod towards a narrow passage to our left, paved with uneven cobblestone and sided by a wall of thick vines growing on the two walls of the separate buildings. The moonlight somehow made it all the way down here to even illuminate the darkest of tunnels. We squeeze through and push out on the other side, dusting debris and leaf bits off our shoulders.

We take cover behind a massive juniper bush and peek out to get our bearings. 

"There, the guard's facing the gate." Sam points towards the big gate to the left that like most things in this place, were built for the use of giants and are over-kill in every regard.

"Right. Just for safety purposes, we should wait for him to come back, stand at his post for three minutes, and then make our move when he shifts back. That way we're guaranteed to have as much time as possible to execute this correctly."

"Sounds good." He whispers back as he proceeds to sharply watch the guard for any changes. 

"So... During your time on the outside, did you have a job or anything like that?" I ask him, turning away from the guard to sit on the stone edging. He seems to have it plenty handled and we're less likely to be detected if we don't both have our faces pushing through the leaves. 

He shrugs, "I did a lot of odds and ends job to keep a steady income for me and Nathan. Y'know, looking back on it, I'm surprised that Family Services didn't get involved. Mom was bed ridden for weeks, Dad was nowhere to be found, we were taking care of ourselves and had money coming from an employer we'd never met. Yeah, that's not sketchy enough at all to investigate..." 

He leans forward, squinting a bit, then sitting back again. 

"What was your favorite job you did?"

"Favorite?..." His face creases with deep thought as he thinks about it. "Probably the lifeguard job I held last summer. One of the major perks was no school to coincide with it. All my winter jobs frequently interfered with school work and I had a lot of low grades during that time."

"...Can I ask you a personal question?"

"We've been over this, nothing is personal enough to me to bother me." He chuckles quietly, his Boston accent growing husky as he lowers his voice. 

"Why did you keep working? Even when you had money coming from your Mom's employer?"

"Wouldn't you?" He asks, turning to look me in the eye. "It felt like that was the only thing I had control over, even if it fucked over my life for a bit. Everything else was planned and orchestrated and there was nothing we could do to keep our lives from going down the road we did. Having a job and feeling like I was doing something good for Nathan and I made it a little more bearable." 

He's quiet for a little while before continuing with his response. "Mom kept getting sicker, and she kept rejecting help. It got to the point where once I had to request a wellness check on her from school because I was so worried sick about her not answering the phone. The phone is right next to her bed, so it stressed me out... The cops get there and end up breaking down our front door and find her high out of her mind on an excessive amount of painkillers. Do you know how hard it is to look your mother in the eye after something like that and not see someone besides someone who loathes you so much they have to get away in the form of suicide?"

He takes a deep breath and sighed. "Honestly, I felt a little relieved when she finally went, awful as that sounds. Our roles had switched during those six months, and now I was the parent, and she was the child and she just kept getting worse and more and more intolerable. She'd start to yell and throw things - a side effect of her illness that caused her to do things she'd never done before. She acted out constantly and tried taking her life on more than one occasion. After a while it just makes you angry how ignorant someone can be, trying to hard to be so selfish. She knew full-well what would happen to Nathan and I if she died, and she didn't care."

Although he'd said personal stuff didn't bother him, it became evident that is still very real and painful for him. His back rose and fell more rapidly as he struggled to control his angered breathing.

"Sorry." He apologizes when he realizes how heated things have become. 

"It's okay." I respond quietly, thinking that maybe I should hug him or try saying something more effective, but the minutes pass and I can't do anything that I'm worried might upset him or make him leave. 

"There's our opening." He points towards the guard, now walking in the opposite direction. 

"Right, let's go." I nod, my voice lacking the enthusiasm it had before. We get up from our hiding spot, legs weak and wobbly from staying crouched so long. It's kinda hilarious, actually, and I almost burst out laughing watching Sam run across the courtyard looking like a fawn learning how to walk on new, unstable legs. I stumbled, too, and quickly scrambled to recover and sprint into the thick bushes on the other side before the guard could turn in confusion, trying to figure out what all the noise was.

Sam is crouched in a fit of silent laughter when I get around the corner to him. He's laughing so hard he has tears in his eyes and it causes me to start laughing again. 

"Why did I feel more like a newborn trying to run than a cool ninja backflipping across the yard?" I laugh, covering my mouth to muffle the noise that would definitely count as suspicious to the guard. 

Sam was cackling now, and it made me feel much better about what had happened just before. He's had a shitty past, so I'll work my hardest to make sure he at least has a decent present. I grin at him now, but not because of anything involved with the gazelle-legged sprint. He's happy, genuinely happy. 

A few moments later, he is wiping gleeful tears from his eyes, and climbing to his feet. "Shall we?" He asks out of breath, his tone still giddy and excited. I laugh, "Yeah, before the guard finds us dying behind the bush." 

We keep moving across the remainder of the courtyard, careful to look behind us every now and again to be sure we haven't been spotted or are being followed. Before long, we're at the main administrative building where the actual front doors to the place are. There's no back door along the wall we're at, so we're going up. I crane my neck to look at the second story windows, and they're still illuminated. 

Sam starts climbing up a rain gutter, and pulls himself up onto the lower roof. I grab onto the base of a rain gutter and plant my feet on the rough brick and begin hauling myself up with some difficulty. Women essentially lack the natural upper body strength that men seem to possess from birth.

"You got it?" Sam whispers down to me. 

"Yep." I say back with some struggle, wrestling my way up. Once I was within reach, he extended his hand towards me and I stared at it stupidly for a moment until he got a confused expression and shook his hand at me again. This time I grabbed it and hauled myself up and over onto the roof, feeling the tingle his warm hand had left on my skin. 

"Okay, so to get to the infirmary, I think we should try and cut through one of these windows-" 

He was busy explaining the plan to me, his back to me, hands perched on his hips and me behind him, holding my hand to my nose, my skin now stinking of spearmint. 

I shake myself out of my daze before he turns and has more reasons to be concerned about me. Come on, Missy, get your shit together. 

He turns halfway toward me to look over his shoulder, his chestnut brown hair hanging in his eyes slightly. My breath hitches and I mentally kick myself, realizing he's been waiting for me to comment on his plan. 

"Sounds good." I agree quickly and he nods slowly after a moment of hesitation. "Okay... Good." He goes to the first leaded window and tries opening it, but the frame clicks as the latch inside catches it. 

"Not that one..." He walks further along and tries the next, then the third. When none of them open, we have to reevaluate the plan. 

"So? Map Girl, where do we go then?"

I mentally organize the layout the administrative building, and with my mind finally clear I have a plan. "Oh, the small window above the sink in the women's bathroom is always left unlocked."

"Where's that?"

I frown "Further than this trip is worth... Want to just peer through the windows?"

He laughs, "Sure. Lead the way."

I hop up on the windowsill and grab the uneven brick edging above, further proving my lack of strength as I flail around squirming up the wall onto the small bordering edge. I wait for Sam to climb up, and he executes it with far more grace and dignity than I had.

"So, how often did you do this kind of stuff?" I ask him.

"Sneaking out or climbing?"

"Both."

He sighs as he thinks about it, scooting along behind me to the illuminated window further down. "Every night, if I could. For the seven months between the time my Mom died and we ended up here, I was always out somewhere climbing on shit. I guess I adapting the physical demands of the hobby, as well because now it's not as difficult as it was when I started."

"And here I am - thirteen years in, once a week and I'm still a petty weakling." I laugh, almost to the window now. He laughs, too.

"Okay, up here is a small landing just outside the infirmary windows. We should be able to perch there fine."

"Okay."

I get there first and settle down in the shadows where the light coming from inside cannot touch me. Sam crouches beside me and we sit in silence with baited breath, waiting for a sign or for someone to walk by. After several minutes, we'd lost hope and started to think that someone had just forgotten to turn off the light when they left. That's when Sister Catherine went by.

She was speaking, but her words were lost by the thick glass. I frowned, but just then Sam hissed my name. When I looked over, he pointed towards the neighboring window he'd wedged open enough to hear the conversation. 

Pressing in close to the crack, we listen in to hear the drama.

"I cannot believe you would break the rules like this. You know you aren't to go to the boy's dormitory. You've been here seven years, you know the rules, and as an adult, you know the risks of partaking in such activities."

She walks back towards the side of the room we can't see. That's where the beds and curtains are. 

"If I'm such an adult, start treating me like one!" an all-too-familiar voice cries out in exasperation. "I'm only here for two more months, anyway. I'll deal with my mistake."

"Fran, that is not an option. You know the rules of procedure."

My widened eyes flicker to Sam, but he is oblivious to what is happening. 

"It's no one's decision but mine to decide what to do with my baby - if I'm even pregnant. We don't even know that for sure." Fran retorts, fear in her southern voice. 

"Please just take the test." Sister Catherine sighs in exasperation.

After a long pause, Fran responds. "No... I can't. I won't."

Sister Catherine sighs in disappointment. "That you know what actions we must take. You are a minor in care of Saint Francis Home. We decide what is in your best interests. Until you walk out those doors at the age of eighteen-"

I withdraw from the window, dealing with the shock. "Holy shit..."

"What?" Sam asks in confusion, looking away from the window to me. 

"Fran might be..." I trail off, lost in my thoughts. 

"Wait, you know that girl?"

I nod. "She's one of my best friends... I wonder what happened, why she's down here now. She was going to see her boyfriend tonight." 

"Maybe they got caught?" He suggests sheepishly, and I shrug. "I... Don't know. I don't want to ask her, and tell her I eavesdropped on her super-personal conversation. On the other hand, I don't want to come back to our room some afternoon to find out she's been kicked out."

"Do you need to talk with her?"

I shake my head. "Not tonight, maybe tomorrow... Speaking of getting caught, we should probably wrap this up."

He nods and gets up, slipping past the window while Sister Catherine has her back turned, too busy scolding Fran for her to notice the other rule-breakers slipping by under her nose. 

Sam leads the way back this time, but now it's quiet and thoughtful. Instead of cutting through the courtyards, we opt to take the highroad across the rooftops of the boy's dormitory. I figure Sam can just get off there and I can walk back on my own. I have a lot of things to sort now. 

"So would you be down to talk more tomorrow?" He asks on the way back, his voice hopeful and confident, but still with an uncertain undertone like he's counting on me saying no. I nod, "Sure, yeah, that'd be fun. What time and where to you want to meet?"

He gets a wry smile. "Let's just go full Disney and meet at the clock tower at midnight." 

I laugh. "Okay, sounds good."

We stop on the rooftop of the boy's dormitory next to a wind left propped. "Well, this is my departure." He gestures towards the crafty exit.

"See ya tomorrow, Morgan." I hold my fist towards him and he bumps my knuckles with his, chuckling quietly as he turns and slips through the window, securing it shut behind him.

Well... Fudge. I have a lot to think about now haha I don't think I'll be sleeping for a while. 

I mill around on the rooftops a little bit longer, just taking some time to clear my head before I go back to my dorm. My thoughts are mostly about Fran. I am worried for her, she and Lena have always been my closest friends. I'm concerned that she is pregnant, and what that means for her. She won't be allowed to stay any longer.

What a fabulous night, right? A real fine, blustery night to remind you that everything has consequences.


	4. Sign of the Times

Morning comes and casts cool purple shadows across our room. I lie on my back, staring at the ceiling, searching for imperfections and images hidden in the texture. The shadows slowly retreated from the corners as the sun rose over the horizon, eventually pushing between the massive buildings outside to come inside the east windows of our quaint room.

Fran was stirring, moving slowly as she makes her bed and slowly prepares to get dressed, her red-rimmed puffy eyes indicating a sleepless, tear-filled night had followed her return back to our room after being escorted by Sister Catherine an hour after I'd gotten back. She was silent when she returned, but obviously upset as she went to her bed and settled back in for the night. 

I never slept. I tried, but I tossed and turned for a bit before Fran returned, then I had to pretend to actually be asleep, which proved to be harder and harder as I laid there with my thoughts, listening to her quiet sobbing for an hour before she fell asleep. I couldn't go demanding answers she didn't want to give and I couldn't speak to her and act like I didn't already know everything. 

I laid there in silence, feeling the dew of sweat forming on my neck as the room started to feel more and more stuffy, even with Lena's window open letting in a cool breeze. Nerves, guilt and concern ate at me all night as my moral compass kept nagging me to get up and go talk to her, but eventually my need to pretend nothing had happened won over. 

At eight, the others began to stir and it finally became acceptable to get up or at least act like I was awake. Grudgingly and tiredly, I push myself off the lumpy mattress and get dressed in clean clothes. I keep a careful eye on Fran as she slowly collects herself. Normally she is more outgoing in the mornings, more of a morning person than any of us. But today she is forlorn and tired looking. 

I notice when she hangs back behind the other girls because of how slowly she's handling her daily tasks; simple things like straightening her sheets and fluffing the pillow. I seize the opportunity to have some time alone, and I slow my work until it's just us two and we can talk.

"Everything okay, hun?" I ask her gingerly, peeking up at her as I fold my quilt and lay it across the foot of my bed. 

She lifts her head to look at me as though she's been in a daze and someone talking to her has been enough to shake it. "Oh..." She blinks, and looks down like she's lost her train of thought, strands of her straight honey-blonde hair falling in her eyes and hanging across her face. 

I keep looking at her, waiting for her elaborate while trying not to come off as pressuring. 

"I'm in trouble, Missy." She admits at last, standing still, half-dressed in her cami tank top and underwear, looking down at the blouse in her hands, wringing the soft cotton fabric in her hands in a nervous fit.

"What's happened?" I ask, though I already know the gist of it.

Her eyes instantly become glossy as she struggles to fend off her emotions. "Oh, it's everything. I snuck out last night to see Liam, and while things became heated we got caught. Sister Catherine dragged me back to the infirmary to scold me."

"...What did she tell you?"

Her face shows a variety of emotions before she speaks again. Everything from pain to disappointment, then grief. "She thinks I'm pregnant, now... And honestly Missy, I think she's right. I haven't felt right in weeks but I've been too scared to tell anyone about it. Problem is, Catholics don't believe in abortion. They're not going to let me abort this baby while I still can."

There's ribbons of tears streaming down her face and genuine fear shimmering in her eyes. Her aimless gaze flits to the window and back down at her hands. I watch her in silence for a moment before I drop the edge of the quilt I am holding and I go to her and sit her down on her bed. Her movements are sluggish and robotic as she stiffly moves to sit, gaze distant although she is maintaining eye contact with me all the while. I hug her to my chest briefly before pulling away to look her in the eye, tucking a strand of her honey-blonde hair behind her ear. 

"Do you want this baby? What has you worried about choosing to carry it to term?"

She bites on her lip in a worried frenzy. "I'm afraid that my life is over, now... Yes, I knew what I was getting into before we started this relationship. I knew the risks, but when you're in the moment, you don't care until it's too late to change your predicament." She sighs, and the small breeze is enough to stir the stray strands of hair hanging across her nose. I reach out and pull those back, too, adding the to the smoothed collection gathering behind her right ear. 

She takes a moment to catch her breath before continuing. "I... Don't know if I want it. I just need the comfort of knowing I have options, even if I never choose to go that route. I most likely won't... But Missy, it'll be too late to change my mind when I get out and I don't want to have a baby that I'll loathe the way my parents hated me." 

She starts sobbing and I pull her close to my chest and hug her tightly. "I understand your reasoning... And your fear. This is all uncharted territory to you and you have every right to feel lost and uncertain. Have you spoken with Liam yet?"

She shakes her head against my collarbone. "No... No, I couldn't. I don't know how he'll react, or what he'll say..." Her voice is hopeless and shrill.

I comb my fingers through her blonde hair, slowly untangling the small knots, smoothing it out down her back. "If I were you, I'd speak with him and see what his thoughts are. But first, take some time to sort out you." I pull back from her to look her in the eyes, perching my hands on her shoulders firmly. "Make a pros and cons list. I know that's hardly the way to go about this, but you need to know everything you're giving up, gaining, and what will be more difficult by both decisions. You have to be sure about this, Fran. No rushed decisions."

"Either way, I don't have any decisions..." She mumbles "I feel so lost. I don't have a choice. The only way I can have the alternative route is if I-" 

She stops herself and more tears gather along the rims of her eyes as she is unable to continue. "I couldn't be that cruel, Missy... Not even if I absolutely hated this baby... I couldn't just-" 

Her breath hitches in her throat and she sniffs, looking down again, occupying her attention with smoothing any wrinkles present in the fabric of her blouse, currently being crushed in her white-knuckled grip. 

I offer her a sympathetic, small smile, gesturing for her to turn away from me so I can braid her hair for her. I separate her hair into three thick blonde strands and begin to organize them into plaits. "Not that it means much, but I think you'd make a good mother." I murmur thoughtfully.

She sighs. "Not like this... Someday I have to tell my baby the truth. What am I going to tell them?"

I bite on my lower lip while I think, tucking loose strands into the design. "As long as you give them all the love and support you can possibly muster, nothing else matters."

"Yeah, but..." She huffs out another frustrated sigh while she searches for the right choice of words. "Still... I will one day be tasked with telling them I got pregnant at seventeen in an orphanage because I was doing something very stupid. Something that I'll be fighting them not to repeat in their own life, making me sound like a total hypocrite. Missy, I can't-"

"Fran-" I grip her shoulders gently but firmly, enough to get her attention. "you're getting way ahead of yourself here. That's easily sixteen years from now. By then you'll be older, and wiser and-"

"Repeating every mistake my own mother did." She whispers hoarsely and I stop braiding, my hands hesitating over her hair. 

"What do you mean?" 

"My own mother did just this... History always repeats itself, I suppose... She had me at sixteen, was disowned by her parents, and when she realized everything else in her life would fall apart with me apart of it, she made a decision. I've bounced between homes like a pinball machine my whole life, Missy. I don't want that for my baby. For that reason, it is better for them to have never existed... But that's not a luxury that I can offer my baby right now. When I get out there I'll be poor and alone, always struggling to keep it alive. What kind of life is that? Where all I have to offer is my love and they can never have anything normal for themselves because of my decisions... This one decision."

~~~

I carry my textbooks out to the courtyard where I can sit and study during break; the only thing that can keep me sane for the moment. Fran's predicament has clouded my mind enough to keep any mentionings of the most peculiar Sam Morgan out of my thoughts. 

I settled in on a bench under one of the bigger trees in the corner gardens, and flipped open the book to the page I'd previously marked with a discolored piece of green ribbon. 

Fran's words kept coming back to me, and they kept leaving me with a sense of unease. How do cornered animals react when they have no options and are terrified? They make rash actions to save themselves... Would Fran do something ridiculous to guarantee her own freedom? She said she wouldn't, that she simply could not do something like that to her baby... But far more bizarre things happen in nature every day. 

In my personal opinion, this should have been decided long before the child was even conceived. Fran and Liam knew the risks involved with the deadly game they played, and they're adult enough to know what comes after (pending Fran actually telling him about it) In that regard, I lack sympathy for her. It's her mistake to deal with now, but how she chooses to go about doing that brings about a whole mess of moral-lacking actions she could later regret. 

I suppose in our three-person relationship, the role of maternal figure swaps between me, Lena, and Fran. Though Fran carries the banner most of the time, there are still times where we're the adults and this is one of them. I'm going to tackle this problem from a loving perspective, but there might be some tough-love involved, and I'm not looking forward to that part... The part where I have to tell her there are no options and she is stuck. 

"Well well well, if it isn't the little convict."

That smug Boston voice comes from behind me and I cast a look over my shoulder, spotting Sam and Nathan walking towards me in their customary prison uniforms consisting of pale blue long-sleeve shirts and denim jeans made for the cooler spring weather. 

I shoot him a look, unsure of how much he'd already spouted to his brother. They approach me with timid looks of shy joy on their faces, no doubt glad to see a familiar face.

"Aw come on, no time to go back to being shy, now." 

"What's up?" I ask them, really trying my hardest to come off as nonchalant and cool as I want to, but it fails as my tone comes out lacking any potent qualities. 

"I'm just takin' Nathan here to his next study. Nathan, you remember Missy from yesterday?"

"Yeah, you were an ass to her." The young boy spouts matter-of-factly, casting a proud, knowing smile up at his older brother. Sam smacks his shoulder "Nathan- no cursing."

Nathan rolls his eyes, but keep smiling. 

"Anyways, contrary to your belief, we've made amends." Sam assures his brother, shifting out of his spot beside his brother to sit on the dew-dampened spot beside me on the bench. 

"You have?" Nathan asks doubtfully, looking from me to his brother. "How's that? And when?"

I jab Sam sharply in the ribs, a silent indication to keep his fucking mouth shut. 

"Hey!" he snaps before quickly smiling pleasantly at his brother with a fake look of everything's alright. "We hung out yesterday, okay?"

Nathan narrows his eyes at his brother, doubtful of how much truth was in his words. 

"So you're friends?" Nathan asks for confirmation, and Sam shrugs "More or less."

I cock an eyebrow at him, but quickly look down at my work before either of them notice my apprehension. The books set in my lap now hold no interest to me; all history books that don't teach me squat about how to handle myself in social situations to come off as a decent person that people actually want to be friends with. It should be no surprise to me that sam is having second thoughts... Afterall, all we did was spy on people and cause trouble when we hung out last night. That's hardly worthy of a life-long bond.

Sam clears his thoat after a moment, "Nathan, why don't you go ahead? I'll catch up to you in a minute."

Nathan lingers for a moment before obliging his brothers wishes, and starts off towards the study hall. Sam takes this moment to turn halfway towards me. "So, tonight at the clock tower?"

"I don't know..." I murmur, flipping through the pages of my study book with an air of annoyance. "Are we going to get caught? How much did you tell your brother?"

"What, Nathan?" He laughs in disbelief, "Nathan won't say anything."

"That's not saying that no one hear you telling him," I retort shortly, "You best not be getting me into any trouble with Father Duffy, Samuel Morgan."

This lights up his eyes in an unexpected way and I blush darkly against my will, realizing that he has reacted so positively to me speaking his name. 

"You won't be in trouble." He assures me, pushing his brown hair out of his eyes, looking up to appreciate the spring state of the courtyard with the flowering trees about to bloom and flower bulbs getting ready to unfurl. "And anyways, I don't think you have any issues getting into it on your own."

I shrug, continuing to look down, making a genuine effort to make good notes regarding the subject at hand. "So what are you up to today, then, hm? Who's panties are you twisting into a bunch today? Hopefully not Father Duffy because I'm sure he's already tired of your shit." 

He laughs, and the sound is exhilarated. "I'm actually trying to stay out of trouble with Father Duffy... He's already given me a strike, which I suppose is pretty impressive because he seems like the kind of guy who is impossible to anger."

I nod and cast my gaze down at my work. "He's very patient. You'd have to be to do a job like his."

Sam nods for a few moments and hesitates before speaking. "So... About last night?"

I perk up and glance up to meet his gaze. "Yeah?"

"The whole... Infirmary situation." He says vaguely, looking slightly uncomfortable breaching the topic, his dark brows pinching together over his brown eyes, casting shadows across the fading freckles on the bridge of his nose and cheeks. 

"Oh, right..." I pause for a moment, furrowing my brow. "No offense, Sam, but I'd like to keep the more personal details regarding Fran's potential pregnancy between just me and her."

A flicker of disappointment crosses his face but he quickly nods and smiles, but it feels like a forced reaction. "Oh, okay. No, that's fine... I understand. She doesn't know me, after all... And you hardly know me well enough to judge my character. I get it."

"I really don't mean to offend you." I say sheepishly when I see the unintentional hurt I've caused.

"I know, I know... I just thought..." He quickly shakes his head and puts on another charming smile that lights up his whole face save for his eyes that are still dark and saddened.

Eager to change the topic, I smile warmly back at him. "There's a secret party going on tomorrow night at the store room if you're interested in meeting more kids around the home."

He snorts dismissively, "Because they've all been such a hoot thusfar," he says sarcastically, "I'll take my chances staying in my room."

I feel a little dissappointed by his rejection, but quickly put up a new front. "No, yeah, totally. It'll be boring teen stuff, anyways. No drinking, just a bunch of teens trying to act double their age with Cheez-its and grape juice."

He narrows his eyes at me a bit, still smiling as though he's already read right through me. "You were gonna go, weren't ya?"

I shake my head, lying. "No- social gatherings like these don't interest me." I say in a weak effort to make myself sound cooler than I actually am, but he wasn't sold on it. "I have other things to be attending to, although Lena and Fran invited me to go with them..."

He raises his chin a fraction, nodding slowly. "So... Fran, right? She's the one who's...?" He trails off, further proving his awkwardness towards discussing the birds and bees with me. I nod, deciding not to call him out on his lack of using actual words to describe his thoughts.

"Yeah... I spoke with her briefly this morning, and I can share these small, few details. She doesn't even know if she's pregnant or not, but she fears the worst. All we can do is wait at this time." I shrug and sigh to indicate that the discussion about Fran is over. If I can keep her from being a subject of gossip, I will. 

"So... Do you have any other friends in this place?" He asks conversationally, and I laugh. "I'm not great with small conversation," I admit with an awkward, crooked smile. "you're welcome to ask the weirder questions."

"What counts as weird?" He asks in confusion, an intrigued smile on his lips.

"What's your favorite reptile, if you could meet any historical figure, who would it be, zombies or werewolves. That kind of thing."

He raises his eyebrows, getting ready to retaliate when the bell chimes to indicate that study break is over and class is about to resume. "Shall we continue this tonight?" He asks, hopping to his feet and straightening his shirt. I nod in response. 

"I must be getting to my next class."

I stare at him in shock as he climbs to his feet, dusting off his jeans. "You're actually taking all of this seriously?"

He shrugs and offers a crooked smile, straightening his pastel blue long sleeve shirt again in what I decide is a nervous habit. "Well, I am trying to not die here. If the bullies don't get me first, Father Duffy will strangle me himself, and that will be something worthy of watching with popcorn." 

I wave him goodbye and watch him go, annoyed by the feeling that follows. 

"Fuck me... He's not that cool." I mutter under my breath as I collect my books and stuff them into my bag. I can feel the blush finally leaving my cheeks and I take a deep breath to clear my head. I am being absolutely ridiculous about all of this. 

"Get a grip, my friend, get a grip..."

~~~

As soon as I step out of my languages study, Sister Catherine is waiting outside the door, her sharp brown eyes fix on me immediately as I slip by in the tidal wave of students exiting the room. She follows after me like a silent, tall ghost. Her short heels clicking on the stone tile. 

"Miss Missy Darabont, a word, please?"

I meet her eyes for a moment, and she straightens her back to tower over me further, gesturing towards an adjacent office space. I nod once and walk ahead of her into the room, with her following me in and shutting the door behind us. 

"Have a seat, please." 

I sit on the leather-bound bench across from the grand mahogany desk dividing half the small room in half. She goes around to the other side and takes her seat in the large chair, but she seems to shrink into it, looking out of place on the large piece of furniture.

She knits her fingers together and rests her hands on top of the desk, looking at me with patient eyes for several seconds before deciding to address why I am here.

"You are good friends with Francine Moody, correct?"

I hesitate, then nod. "Yes, ma'am... Is she in trouble?..."

"No, no..." She answers to quickly, trying to soften her tone before it becomes obvious that there is distress in her attitude. "Because of your closeness with Francine, I have some questions for you."

"If you're about to ask me to sell her out and betray her trust, I'm sorry, I can't help you." I shake my head firmly, cutting her off before she can share her evil plan. 

She sighs calmly, looking down briefly at the paperwork on the desktop, and I realize that they are mine, Lena's, and Fran's files. Her eyes flit over them briefly, collecting more information than she'd need to interrogate me. Even so, I guess we're even. I know more than enough about her, as well. 

"I had a feeling you would feel that way towards this interview, so I hope to ease your worries by saying she is in no danger, and the information I ask of you will help your friend greatly."

"...Is she aware of any of this?" I ask uncertainly, "No offense, ma'am, but Fran seriously cannot stand people invading her privacy by going around her instead of asking her to her face. "

"Francine will be made aware of it soon." She responds, skillfully dodging the question. "How recently have you spoken with her?"

I shrug, feeling indifferent towards sharing much with her. "Not since yesterday." I lie "She was up early this morning and we did not sit together at breakfast."

She scans my face for any sign I am lying, but she seems to be satisfied with the information I have provided her with. "So she has not shared anything... Personal with you recently?"

I shake my head, putting on a show of looking dumbfounded. "No... Just study stuff. Ma'am, has Fran done something wrong?"

She presses her lips into a thin line. "It is against policy to share private details with unrelated parties."

"...With all due respect, aren't you doing just that by including me into your studies? I had no reason to be alarmed until you started asking me questions to pique my interest. Seems a bit counter-intuitive, to be honest."

Caught in her own web, she remains silent for a few moments, the ticking of the clock on the wall reminding us of the passing seconds with loud, booming ticks. 

"The difference, Miss Darabont, is that I'm using this information to benefit the student, not to use it maliciously against her."

I arch an eyebrow, readying myself to fire back with more questioning remarks, but instead, I bite down on my inner lip to silence myself. One of my many flaws include not knowing when to shut up in a tight situation such as this one. 

"In any case, I do not think you have the information I need to proceed with Francine's case. I do appreciate your cooperation, you are excused."

She rises from her chair and walks around the wide desk, going to open the door for me as though she is doubtful that I can handle even that on my own. I get to my feet and exit swiftly before more questions pop into her head, ones I can't avoid through witty commentary and mixed up timelines.

Feeling flustered and a bit lost, I wander the now-empty halls in search of my next class, a routine I should definitely have memorized by now. 

"Miss Darabont?" 

I turn and meet Sister Catherine's eyes again, and she raises her chin a fraction, indicating that she is doubtful of me. "You do know where you're going, don't you?"

I nod swiftly and offer her the most confident smile I can, and with a sweeping walk that almost causes me to trip on the uneven stone floor of the long corridor, I scurry around the corner out of her line of sight. 

I wonder if Lena has also been approached to spill the sacred inner secrets of our friendship triangle? 

How much trouble has this caused the Sisters? I mean, having boys and girls of similar age on the same estate was bound to give him problems like these sooner or later... I wonder how they'll handle it? Will they keep Fran here, or send her off somewhere else to be properly cared for?

If they do that, it'll only further making Fran feel like a cornered animal, and hopefully she doesn't do anything rash because of the pressure.

I rush to my next study (that thanks to Sister Catherine, I am now three minutes late for) and I bolt into the room gaining an assortment of startled groans to glares from Sister Amelia. She slaps the edge of the ruler in her hand sharply against the battered surface of her desk, pacing the length of it with her eyes trained on me. 

"Missy? I do hope you have a good reason for why you weren't here until just now."

"Sister Catherine needed to talk to me about some private stuff." I explain, quickly taking my seat near the back of the class, taking extra care to sit up super straight and to look as attentive as possible. This seems to appease her, because she backs off, nodding, and resuming her lecture.

With a sigh of relief, I retreat into my own little bubble, flipping open the cover of my textbook, looking down at the text that seems to blur and shift about. I'm already not a fan of this class, but atop everything else, I still need to attempt to study. (Notice the use of the word attempt?)

I shift around in my seat a bit and get to work writing what few notes can - mostly it's just random bullshit I'm writing down, but it keeps Sister Amelia from calling me a slacker whenever her watchful, wise gaze settles on me.

I sketch some tiny outlines of corridors, keeping my mind awake and alert by trying to remember the exact layout of the storage buildings where I'd possibly be spending tomorrow evening. I know the main building is a large domed sandstone building that sticks out from the others around it. Inside, it's three stories of decrepit darkness as the sisters don't use it for more than storing old marble statues that have been moved while redecorating or have fallen off the outer walls of the buildings. 

I do know from one of my previous visits that it looks like a graveyard in there; a sea of broken and chipped statues leaning against one another appearing like a dead-eyed mosh pit consisting of pale-skinned angels and cherubs. 

I find myself in a predicament where I don't actually want to go and socialize with the other petulant children pretending that we're all cool an hip adults when we're the farthest thing from mature.

The classroom door flies open just then, and everyone's gaze jerks up, startled and confused. I look up and see Lena there, all out of breath. "Missy! Come quick, it's Fran."

I don't wait for the ok to go, I launch out of my desk and follow briskly after Lena with Sister Amelia shouting after us, asking what is going on. 

"What's happened?"

"Fran's in the toilets, puking her guts up and sobbing."

"Is anyone with her?" I ask doubtfully, images of terrible things Fran could be doing to herself flashing through my head.

"Sister Catherine is with her, though she's calm, it's obvious she's angry."

I sigh. "Did... Fran tell you about her predicament?"

Lena nods quickly. "Yes, this morning at breakfast she did. I can't even imagine the shit she is going through right now, on top of the whole orphange thing. She gets out in a few months and fresh out the doors, she might have a baby to care for. She's a strong damn woman, but I'm not sure she's strong enough to handle an about-face on her life and everything she has planned for herself."

"It's heartbreaking." I murmur, jogging beside Lena towards the girls' bathroom. "I wouldn't wish this on anyone... I just pray to God she doesn't do something stupid."

We shove through the bathroom door and round the partition to find Sister Catherine sitting on the bathroom tile in her full black robe getup, with Fran curled up into her chest like a small child, loud sobs wracking her body as she slurs her words between heavy breaths."

"What happened to her?" I ask Sister Catherine, moving quickly to her side, placing a comforting hand on Fran's back, rubbing in little circles in an effort to calm her down. Sister Catherine looks at me, and there's no humor in her eyes. She knows that I know. 

I retreat a little bit, unsure of what to say now that the cat might be out of the bag. Sister Catherine works on calming her down using soothing words and telling her everything will be sorted - a lie that Fran won't believe. 

"Missy Darabont," she addresses me after a moment, continuing to maintain eye contact with me. "I do believe we need to have another discussion."

I frown and finally nod, looking down to tend to Fran. 

"What did she do?" I ask again, seeking answers that no one was giving. 

"Later, Miss Darabont." Sister Catherine told me firmly. "You two, return to your studies. I shall handle this."

"No way!" Lena objects, "She's our friend, we're here for her."

"That's very charming, but may I remind you that you both have things to be doing, and this is outside your concern, now please." She gestures towards the exit. "Fran is grateful for your presence and concern, but this is a private matter."

"Okay... Well is there anything else we can do to help?"

"If you could inform Father Duffy, I'd appreciate it. Tell him to come here."

We both nod, and with some reluctance, prepare to leave. Once the bathroom door has secured shut behind us, we look at one another. 

"This can't be good." I murmur.

"Fran is a mess..." She sighs, "I wish there was more we could do for her. She's alone in this. Do you know if she's told Liam yet?"

I shake my head, "As of this morning, she hadn't. Maybe she spoke to him since... And that conversation sprouted all of this?" I gesture towards the bathroom. "Anyways, I'm not sure what else can be done on our part, we just have to wait on answers from Fran."

I frown, walking down the hall towards the staircase to get up to the third floor where Father Duffy's office is. 

"Do you think she'll keep it?" Lena asks apprehensively. 

I glance at her and shrug. "I think she'd make a good mother, all things considered. She's like a mother figure to us and all the other girls. I don't think she'll really know what she wants until she's held that baby for the first time. I just pray that she gives it a chance for that to happen."

"Do you think she'll do something... Bad?" She wonders, her brow furrowing. "I can't imagine her doing anything malicious to anyone, but this is a very different thing. I don't think all the pressure from the Sisters is helping." She admits with a shrug. 

I bite on my inner lip in deep thought. "I really hope not."


	5. Meet Me at the Clock Tower

It's been an interesting couple days, to say the least. I can't say I've suffered any kind of boredom. My sardonic humor and strong desire to please everyone around me are often two sides to the same coin; that coin being me.

It's nearing eleven, and we're all ready for bed in our cotton gowns and robes, listening to quiet Catholic music on the record player by the bedroom door. I sit cross-legged on my mattress, flipping through a magazine in my lap with zero care for the information on the pages. My gaze flickers up to Fran's empty mattress and I feel a sickening swirl of dread brewing in my stomach.

Five minutes later, Sister Amelia steps into our room quietly, making her rounds around the room. My heart lunges up my throat when I realize what she's doing. She's going to each window, pretending to peek out into the brewing storm sending cascading drops down the glass. While her eyes are fixated with the outside world, her hands are busy fitting the window latches with tiny padlocks. 

She gets to my usual escape window, just to my right. I keep my eyes trained on an article regarding the importance of keeping lots of houseplants in your living space. I peek at her out of the corner of my eye, noticing that she's taking way too long to do that one. I turn halfway towards her, seeing the reason she's taking so long. That window sill is the only one in this room not covered in a layer of dust. 

She wipes her index finger across the rough wood surface, holding it to her face to observe the lack of dirty particles on the skin. Without saying anything, she slips another small lock from the front pockets of her black robes, sliding it into place on the latch, snapping it shut. 

She drifts away to continue looking over the room, and within a few moments, Lena steps back into the room, having just returned from her shower. Squeezing her wet brown locks, she goes to her bed and begins to lay out her clothes for the morning, then she goes to the window to perform her nightly ritual of cracking it open, when she finds it padlocked shut.

"Um, miss? The window is locked." She says with a furrowed brow. Sister Amelia's eyes flash with a bit of shock, as though she were hoping that she could at least get out of the room before we'd notice the change and start having a fit about it. 

"It's a new security procedure," she explains without going into detail. "nothing to worry about."

"If is for me..." Lena replies, gesturing towards the lock. "I get some gnarly night terrors when there's no fresh air flow. I've had it since I was a baby."

Sister Amelia appears taxed by this request, and instead of obliging, she holds up her hands. "I'm sorry, I can't do anything for it." 

She wraps up her goodnights and group prayer quickly, but she wouldn't be so lucky to get out the door before being asked another question. There's twelve girls in this room, me, Lena, and Fran. Six of the others are my bullies, and the last three kinda do their own thing. Noelle Winsing perks up at the opportunity to frustrate.

"Miss, what kind of security precautions are these? Have there been break-ins? Murder?"

Each of her guesses cause her voice to sharpen an octave in excitement and she scoots to the end of her bed to fix her expectant stare onto Sister Amelia. 

"No such thing, child. None of you should worry, of course." She gives us all a forced smile and exits the room swiftly, turning off the light as she goes.

We lay in mostly silence save for the few girls murmuring gossip to each other. I tune it out in favor of listening to the thunder and lightning crashing outside and the pounding of raindrops against the glass.

How the hell am I supposed to get out there tonight, now?... Will Sam know to just stay in his room because of the storm? Or will he brave it and sit out there alone because I never show up... This guilty revelation causes me to mentally explore my series of maps to decide a different route that includes exiting the room and using one of the windows in the dormitory hall. 

Doing this poses a number of new risks, but, I'm obviously not going anywhere in here. Besides, I can use the bathroom as an excuse to exit quietly without leaving suspicion as the girls all share one local bathroom on the floor. 

I lay in silence for what feels like an eternity. I listen hard for the sound of the bell tower striking midnight to indicate that I am late, but I seem to still have time. I wait for total silence, then give it another ten minutes.

I scoot to the edge of my mattress and step off onto the smooth floorboards, adjusting my weight and straightening my nightgown. I grab my cardigan off the end of my bed and pull it on, it's bound to be freezing out there.

With quick but silent footsteps, I advance towards the bedroom door, listening hard for any indication that I've been discovered. I exit the room easily and am momentarily blinded out in the hall by the bright overhead chandeliers giving illumination to the long empty hall. 

"Okee, so far so good, don't fuck this up." I mutter to myself, slipping across the flooring quietly on bare feet. 

There's a lovely leaded window at the end of the hall, it's surrounded in stained glass designs, but in the lower center is a window that actually opens. I know that below this window is a low roof just below it that has a lattice panel beside it that I can use to access the upper roof. 

Of course, sprinting across the rooftop in the middle of a lightning storm is a good idea. 

I fiddle with the latch, not getting my hopes up that it's been left unlocked, or that it even opens anymore, but to my delight, it opens easily. I gently push it open and stick my head out into the downpour, and sure enough, the roof and lattice is all in place. Perfect settings on a not-so-perfect evening. 

I slide out into the darkness, reaching behind myself to slide the window shut. I prop it open slightly for an easier return, and drop down onto the lower roof. From there I scale up the lattice panel, feeling it sway in uncertainty underneath my weight. I move as quickly as I can without ripping the staples holding it in place from the wall.

"Damn these beautifully decorated buildings." I chuckle to myself, blinking rapidly to rid my eyes of the raindrops clouding my vision. When I smile, the drops land on my teeth and make my lips glisten.

The sky is dark tonight, the moon hidden behind the thick brooding storm clouds looming low above my head. 

Climbing the lattice is made even harder because I am barefooted, but I get up well enough and luckily for me it goes all the way to the roof. 

I crawl onto the roof, gripping the slick sunbaked clay tiles that make up the roof, careful not to slip and slide off the side as that is a fall that I am not likely to survive. 

I stand up straight, hugging a decommissioned chimney for support. I push back my soaking locks off my forehead, trying to get my bearings. I'm already soaked to the bone and my sopping wet skirt is slapping against my legs like a leather whip. 

I just have to cross the long part of this roof, and drop down onto the mid-roof below and I'm there. Of course the bedroom-window route would have been better, but on a restless night like tonight I probably would have gotten swept off in the wind. 

Once I've figured out what I'm doing, I get moving, trying not to lollygag on the roof too long in a lightning storm in the even that I get pummeled by a strike. 

The drop below is lengthly, so I take precautions to not die while lowering myself over the edge, reminded again of my lack of upper body strength. I let go, and free fall for a moment before landing in an unexpected place.

"Well look who finally showed up." Sam says with mock disappointment in his voice, grinning at me in the dim light given by the lightning strikes. He sets me on my feet and pushes the dripping locks of hair off his forehead, perching his hands on his hips, his clothes soaked through like my own. 

"So, I'd love to keep the pleasentries and all, but I'd also love to get this adventure underway, and preferably indoors because I am freezing out here."

"Right." I nod in agreement, "Well I have a proposal for tonight's adventure - if you don't mind, that is..."

"No, no, you can wear the pants tonight. What are we up to?"

"Fran." I state, and he nods in understanding, and begins to pace a bit. "Right. Why?"

"She never returned to our room this evening and she was having some sort of episode earlier. I'm worried that they've either given her the boot, or they're getting ready to. It's our job to get to the bottom of it."

"No offense, Missy, but is this for her peace, or yours?"

It's a simple question and it challenges me in a way that no one else's questions ever do. He gives me a pressing look while he waits for my response. 

"A bit of both, I think..." I admit, furrowing my brow and looking down at the ground, feeling the freezing raindrops running down my neck and weighing down my braid. "Nonetheless, I just need the closure of knowing either way if she's still here or not. She's one of my best friends, if she disappears with no explanation, I have reason to be worried." 

"Understandable. Well, let's get on it. We're not discoverin' anything standing out here waitin' to get struck."

"I almost didn't show." I admit, "Sister Amelia padlocked all the windows. I wouldn't have come had I not had the visual of you out here alone like a kicked puppy in the rain wondering what happened to me."

"Hey! I wouldn't have stayed all night. You make it sound like I rely on you now."

I smile to myself, my crush satisfied with this although his words are laced in sarcasm. 

Just then, the clock beside us, way up in the air chimes loudly. The bell bangs, and the illuminated clock hands shift forward to twelve.

"I'm not actually late, to be fair." I say smugly, and he rolls his eyes. 

We linger for a moment, a silent awkwardness settling between us, the wooshing of the rain against our skin and clothing the only thing to break up the quiet. 

"So," He sighs, stretching his arms. "Where to? This weather is going to make getting around difficult."

"I agree... For this venture, maybe it'd be better for us to stick to the ground. I doubt the guards will be moving too much tonight."

He nods in agreement, biting on the edge of his lip in deep thought for a moment. "Alright. Sounds good, lead the way." 

We don't waste much time dwelling on the rooftop, and we move in silence through the shadows. The way down is fairly easy considering how all the ledges are slick with rain, with more coming down. 

"What do you think happened to her?" Sam wonders out loud once we're on the ground. I fiddle with my nightgown and shrug. "I don't know... My guess would be that maybe they have her in isolation for a few days. Maybe she acted out after this afternoon."

My words pique his interest, but he refrains from asking any questions, possibly because of what I told him this morning about the whole privacy thing. He nods slowly, listening thoughtfully. 

"In any case, the isolation rooms are near administrative and..." I look around to get my bearings, locating the large clock tower above us easily. "they're this way."

"Cool, let's go break and enter!" He says enthusiastically, pumping his fists into the air victoriously. 

We make our way through the maze easily and unscathed. The guards weren't out yet in the downpour, so we didn't have to worry as much about getting caught. After making it to the front of the building, Sam pointed out a window cracked open over a dumpster. We scrambled on top of it, taking a moment to peek inside first to make sure we wouldn't be dropping in in front of someone.

"It looks clear," Sam whispers to me after a minute of no traffic. "you're the map queen; where do we go?"

"Well..." I say, cracking a grin as I reach inside the soaked pocket of my night gown, producing a wet piece of heavily creased paper folded into a neat square. From the way we are leaning against the wall, the angled rain just misses us.

I tuck a dripping strand of hair behind my ear and unfold it, holding it up to the dim light coming from the window to show him. The faded graphite lines outline the hallways of the administrative building.

"This is a map of this whole area leading up to the area right behind the counter. There's not a hot chance in Hell I could get in there without getting caught, there's a 24-hour guard. Lucky for us, anything we need should be in the archives, which is located in this hallway here." I tap the paper where a hallway branches off from the large box shape in the middle of the room which serves as a cubicle office where phone calls are answered and simply inquirys are delt with.

"At this hour, no one will be in the office... But just to refresh, what did you see on the night you arrived here? Were there people still in the office?"

"That little office in the center? No, in fact, my Dad started raising Hell in the hallways until some of them came out to figure out what was going on. Other than that, the halls were dead silent." He says with a shrug.

"Well, that's good for us..." I murmur, peeking through the narrow window again for any sign of life. "If Fran is anywhere, she'll be in the isolation rooms. I've never been there myself, because they're back in this forbidden area. For that reason, if we're gonna take such a big risk, we need to know for sure that that is where she is. The only way to know that is through her files, which are stored in the archive... Assuming no one has moved them somewhere else for the time being. They have to register her location and any mishaps in that file, so it'll all be there."

"So our first move is finding that file?"

I nod.

"And if it isn't there... Then where after that?"

I point towards a series of adjacent rooms on the opposite side of the hall. "These I believe to be small office spaces intended for signing paperwork between new and retiring families. They'd most likely be in one of these rooms for study."

"...And there's a good chance one of the Sister's left it in there..." He nods, shifting his jaw in thought for a moment. "Works for me, I'm ready whenever you are."

I go first, getting down low to get through the short horizontal window, and dropping onto the floor below, the soles of my wet feet making a quiet slap against the pristinely clean pastel yellow tile.

Sam drops in behind me, and we wait a moment, listening for any indication that we have been caught.

"I think we're good." Sam whispers to me, "Where to now?"

I hand him the map and he looks it over, casting glances around him to get his bearings on where he is. "Right, those rooms you mentioned are over here... I think one of us needs to keep watch while the other checks the archives."

I nod, not exactly loving the idea of splitting up the responsibility in a way that he could sell me out and get me caught if he wanted to.

"Which job do you want? I'm fine with either but if I'm gonna be honest, I think you'd do better as a guard. You know the routes and places to hide if things go awry."

I look him in the eye for a moment, searching those pools of brown for any indication that he was planning on betraying my trust with this, but all I saw was honesty. He was still waiting for my answer.

"Yeah," I agree with more confidence than I feel, "I can do that. You'll have to search for her file, though... Her full name is Francine Argyle Elizabeth Moody."

He chuckles, "Wait... Where did she come from originally? If I didn't know better I'd have thought she was from Irish roots."

"Yeah," I laugh quietly, "she's actually from the South, but even she's said that she thinks she had some kind of Irish bloodline in her family because her name is so bizarre... Anyways, you know how to find it in the directory, right?"

He nods with one quick, confident movement, his closed-lipped smile eager to get started.

I lead the way towards the large room near the main entrance. In the center is that square booth with glass enclosing it, the lights are off inside. Across from it is the hallway containing the archives and offices, and the hall directly behind the booth is the unknown land where I presume the isolation rooms are.

We lean with our backs pressed against the wall, taking turns peering around the bend for any sign of life. I find myself secretly pleased with how seamlessly we work together. Our movements are quick and fluid like we've been doing this together for ages... I suppose that it's because we both have been doing this in our spare time for so long that it is so easy to adapt, but still... It makes me kinda happy.

We cut across the hall, and make our way towards the archive room quickly and efficiently. I nod towards the correct door when we're standing in front of it. "Now or never, eh?"

He arches a brow and looks at the door.

"Wait, what if someone is in there?" I wonder outloud, considering for the first time that the real threat could be the one we stumble upon.

"Then I'll just charm them to death," He laughs with a roll os his eyes. "They'll have no choice but to let me go!"

"You've really got this all planned out, don't you?" I laugh quietly, sounding cool and nonchalant while in my head I'm laughing in a panic.

He nods once in satisfaction and reaches for the door handle, pushing it open slowly while peeking around inside. "Hey, I think it's empty. Crazy luck."

"Check back in five." I whisper to him as he shuts the door behind him.

"Yeah, will do."

With him gone, I turn and press my back against the wood, scanning down the hallway the way we'd entered for any sign that we may get caught. After a bit, I paced down the hall further, risking a peek around the hall to the forbidden area. Still, I see no one or anything of concern... What? Do all guards just get the night off when it's raining?

Biting on my inner lip nervously, I throw a doubtful look back at the door.

"Jesus, how long down it take him to say everything's fine?" I murmur, going towards the door. I push it open and am greeted by dozens of rows lined with binders, boxes, filing cabinets and more. Each aisle is illuminated with flourescent lights hanging above. With quiet steps, I inch into the room and shut the door behind me, tempted to call out his name, but I bite my tongue in concern that he's not alone in here and I give him away.

I step forth carefully, remaining timid and alert of my surroundings, peeking down each aisle before proceeding. Near the last row, marked as containing the files of children's last names beginning with A - F, I peek around the corner and find him standing there.

It's fine enough until my brain snaps back out of my fantasy world to remind me that Fran's last name doesn't start with any of those letters.

"Hey, did you find it?" I ask him in a relatively loud voice, just loud enough to startle him, and it does. He fumbles with the tan folder in his hands until the contents simply slip out and slide gracefully across the floor in a beautiful mess of typed ink pages.

I crouch and begin scooping up the pages at my feet, "Sorry, I didn't mean to freak you out." I say as I reach for another, glancing up at him long enough to watch him scrambling to collect as many of the pages as he can, his cheeks glowing a heated red.

"What's gotten into you?" I ask, cocking a brow in confusion. My gaze falls upon the page he's reaching for - the last one lying on the floor between us. My hand whips out and I dig my fingernails into the surface just as his hand lands on it.

I read my name on the header, and my eyes rise up to his face with a glower curving my brow in disapproval and betrayal.

"What is this?"

"Ah-"

I rip the page out from under his hand, wrinkling the page slightly in the process. I flutter it and add it to the stack in my pile, my eyes scanning over the words staining the parchment.

I observed Michelle Darabont this afternoon in the lunch hall having an altercation with Kyle Berkeley. I had noticed him approach her, and the talked. It seemed friendly enough until she began to yell, and I quote: "Leave me alone you pervert! I'm not one of your sex dolls."

She bolted before she could be questioned, but later that afternoon she was escorted to my office by Sister Amelia. I must admit, she shocked me. Her attitude was nothing but polite and straightforward; she kept a smile on her face and was very pleasant to speak with through the pleasantries such as when I asked her how her studies were going.

When I asked her about the altercation earlier, she apologized profusely saying it was a mistake on her part. I asked her to elaborate further, but she instead redirected the topic. I then asked her bluntly if Kyle had reacted to her in an inappropriate manner, to which she shook her said and said he was nothing but polite to her before apologizing again.

I caught up with Kyle later tonight after dinner and had the opportunity to speak with him myself. He claimed that she had just reacted oddly to a dirty joke he'd told her and explained that he meant no harm.

This accusation has been closed until further notice.

Signed,

Father Ryan Duffy

My cheeks turn red and my chest puffs out with the breath I've been holding the whole time. My eyes flicker around everywhere but to him. I can't look him in the eye because at the moment I'm not sure if I'm angrier with him, or more embarrassed for myself...

"Why. The. Hell. Would. You. Read this?!" I demand in as shrill of a shriek as I can manage with remaining quiet. His eyes are darkened and guilty like those of a kicked puppy, but he doesn't respond.

"These are personal! These-" A shaky breath rattles my chest and I sigh, yanking the remainder of my files and the folder from his hands, adding mine to the contents, shuffling them more than the moment needed.

"If you wanted to know more about me, you could've just asked." I mutter, casting my angered gaze downwards, my aura glowing a fiery red shade of anger and embarrassment.

"I'm sorry, Missy, I didn't realize that they were..." He trails off and his gaze moves to the papers gripped in my white-knuckled grip.

"Yeah." I say shortly, "It's a collection of my every flaw, typed up neatly and placed in a cute binder to sit on a shelf in this Hell-hole for the rest of eternity... And eventually the wrong pair of eyes; yours, would see it, read the testimonies and realize how ridiculous of a human being I am. Congratulations." I say with dry sarcasm, battling the desire to get up and bail out now.

He looks at me a little longer before daring to speak up again. "What about you, though? You read other people's files, don't you? Why is it any different?"

Because it's you.

I don't answer... Because I can't. He's right, I know he is, but I'm not about to vocalize it.

He grows frustrated quickly, "Well, if you'd have given me a chance, I would have given you this."

He tosses something towards me and it hits the floor well before it reaches me, the few pages inside sliding out of place. I begrudgingly bring my eyes up to study it on the floor, reading his name written in permanent marker on it in neat handwriting.

"And that would have done what, exactly? There's nothing you've done here that I don't already know. It hardly makes us equals for you to give me your bare rap sheet."

He bites on his lower lip in what I've come to realize is a nervous/frustrated habit of his. "You know, when you've been out there," He says, jabbing an accusing finger at the wall, his eyes serious. "and you've had a troubled past, they still document that shit. There's a whole sea of information in there that you didn't know. Stuff that's pretty up there with whatever you've been through."

We stare each other down for a long moment before I rise to my feet, organizing the folders in my arms in the process.

"No." I sigh, going back to the shelf, searching further down for the M's. I tuck his back into the shelf, being mindful of the alphabetical order while putting mine away as well, tossing him a look in the process. "I'm sorry, but I'm not comfortable with all of this. I'm not going to read your just because I'm angry and want to get even, and you're not reading mine because to be completely honest, I hardly know you."

He steps back and leans against the wall in defeat, looking at me with forlorn eyes.

"Did you find Fran's file?"

He points towards a gap on the shelf where the file sits. I grab it and open it up, eager to most past all of this and get on with the reason we're both here. I thumb through the pages quickly, the atmosphere heavy and an awkwardness has formed between us.

I find her activity chart near the back of her file and skim over most of it, cutting to the end. I find the most recent entry written in quick cursive handwriting in blue ink. 

Moved Francine Moody to isolation room #4

"Right," I murmur, handing it back to him. "Put it back wherever you found it, we've got all the information we need."

He furrows his brow as he grabs it from me. "Okay, where then?"

I'm battling the urge to just tell him to forget it and to let me handle it on my own, but handling that unknown hallway stuck with me with more fear having to go it alone.

"Room number six. Be vigilant, there's a fair chance she's not alone in there."

"Right... What do you have to talk to her about anyways?"

"I just need some reassurance that she's not going to do some crazy shit in the spirit of rebellion," I murmur as we make our way towards the exit. "she was... Particularly unhinged this afternoon, I need to know that she's not gonna go full psycho and get herself put in the ward."

"So a pleasant house call?" Sam inquires in a tone that's only half-joking. 

"You didn't have to tag along." I remind him as I shut the door behind him on the way out. From there forward, we are quiet. We look around and make sure that no guards have planted themselves in front of the hallway. Luckily, it seems to still be vacant and seemingly abandoned.

"I'll lead, you take up the rear."

I'm surprised when he doesn't protest or complain. He just falls into line silently behind me and we embark on our adventure, tip-toeing down the hall, remaining sharp and vigilant all the while. I stop and lean back against a wall, peering around the corner.

"Shit." I sigh, "Found 'em."

Sam leans over and sees the same sight; three of the guards sitting around in folding chairs playing cards and drinking coffee, sitting in the middle of the small lounge area at the bend of the hall. There's another route to the left that I am uncertain to where it goes. 

"We really don't have much of a choice." He says, voicing my very thoughts. I nod in agreement, and we dart across the hall out of view before any of the guards could even register any movement. 

I start examining the doors, not really noticing any distinction between them. "These can't be them... They're not numbered or anything."

"When we do find it, how do we get in? Surely they're locked."

"I'm familiar with the locking mechanism," I explain quietly. "They're locks that only open from one side; this one. It remains locked on the other. They're on all the offices in the study hall."

He makes a face that looks like he is about to prompt his next question but thinks better of it. 

We make it to the next bend and repeat the previous process, each of us taking time to peer around the corner for any sign we're about to get our asses whooped by a Sister with a ruler and too many strict rules to instill. 

"We're good."

We're moving down the hall at an easy pace when Sam grabs my arm suddendly, causing me to leap. 

"What?"

"Those doors have numbers." He points out a group of them down a short hall to our left. 

"Good call." I compliment him, realizing that if I keep ignoring his genius or pick every decision we make, he's going to start acting out and causing problems for me. 

He heads out ahead of me now, leading the search as he investigates each of the numbers, listening carefully.

"This one." He gestures towards the little metal six nailed to the wooden door. Our gazes fall apon the fancy locking mechanism and our suspicions are confirmed.

"How do we keep that thing from locking behind us?"

"We could prop it... Or one of us could stay out here."

"I doubt the Sisters leave anything worthy of propping a door with in these rooms." I laugh to myself.

"True," he chuckles. "you go ahead, and I'll let you out afterwards. I can keep an eye out, too."

Once again, I am struck with doubt that he will actually carry out his promises. He didn't break the last one per se, but he also didn't achieve it to the desired level of satisfaction, giving me a good reason to doubt him this time.

"Try not to get distracted." I remind him in a semi-joking tone as I reach for the door handle. 

"Right, sure." He sighs in response. "Try not to get caught."

"Right... Sure." I murmur under my breath as the lock beeps and the light turns green.


	6. Wedding Plans

"Missy? What on Earth are you-"

"Shh!" I hiss as I shut the door behind me, hearing the audible click. "Is anyone here with you? Anyone coming to check in?"

She shakes her head, "You know you won't be able to get out now, right? That's a one way door."

"Of course, I have someone on my side. Anyways-"

"Wait, who is here with you? Is it Liam?" She hops up from her cot, standing uncertainly. 

"No... It's ah... Sam."

"Sam?" She wrinkles her nose as she says his name, confusion crossing her face as she tries to remember anyone by that name. 

"He's new here," I say dismissively, "We met on the roof. Anyways,"

"Wait,"

"No more waiting! The fine details of why I am here are unimportant!" I sigh in exasperation, "I'm here for a reason and I would like to carry that out if it's quite alright with you?" I give her a look until she sighs in agreement.

"First and foremost, a hug." I go to hug her and it's drawn out. As we sway back and forth, I speak. "What's up, hun? You had me worried this afternoon, Lena too."

"A mental breakdown, you could say." She says, a breathy laugh following it in a weak attempt to soften the delivery of her message. "Missy, what the Hell am I going to do? I am fucked."

"Have you spoken with Liam yet?"

"I tried," She murmurs into my hair, "but honestly, I couldn't even get close enough. The Sisters are bloody brilliant, they did everything in their power to ensure we were never within earshot of one another. They swapped our classes so we'd only see each other briefly as he exited and I entered, and the timing was never right. Obviously, I couldn't just blurt out I'm pregnant and we need to talk in a hallway full of eager, gossip-hungry teens."

I pull away and we sit across from each other on her bed. 

"So... This place? Have they told you when you can go back to the dorm?"

She shakes her head. "I think this is a measure to keep me and Liam apart for the time being until they can think of a more effective route. I don't know when... Or if I am."

"What about the party tomorrow? Liam will be there, right?"

She frowns and sighs, "Yeah... That'd be the best time to talk to him. Girl, I don't know if I'm getting out of here."

"I could get you out... Or Sam even... After lights out, we could." I offer without really thinking about it. 

She looks up at me, arching a brow in a look of shock. "You'd do that?"

"Hell yeah," I nod, "You're family to me, hun."

She thinks about it for a moment before getting up and going towards the small dresser, getting down on her knees to reach under it. A few seconds later she pulls out a folded piece of paper. 

"If I don't or can't get out tomorrow because there's some alignment of the planets or something keeping it from working, can you get this to him?"

She slips the paper into my hand, giving it a squeeze as she does so. 

"It contains everything he needs to know about my circumstances. Can you get him to write me a response?... And if you don't want to take the risk or get involved, I completely understand."

I look down at the piece of paper, and instead of seeing a loving effort sitting in the palm of my hand, I see it as a choice that could have negative consequences for everyone involved. 

"What does it say?..." I ask as I eye it like a venomous snake. 

She bites on her lip and shifts her weight anxiously for a moment before she paces briefly. "Missy, do you really want to know?"

I meet her eyes, and they're fearful.

"What do you mean?"

"That letter changes everything." She says, her gaze falling upon it. "I've spared no expense explaining my plan in it, but the quick version is... We're breaking out of here. I know how, and I know when to do it... We're going to get out, and we're headed for Oregon, I know my Mother has family up there, I just have to locate the Moody family. We're getting married, and we're going to have our own family. Missy, I'm not having this baby without a father and a home." 

She says the ending like a warning, and it makes my blood go cold. 

"What if he... Disagrees?"

Her face is grave. "There will be consequences."

"Are you serious?" I ask a little harsher than I intend to. "You're going to what? Pitch yourself down a staircase and kill it because it's not the perfect happily ever after? Francine, no one ever gets the ending they want, they get the hand they're dealt until they can find a way to modify it to make themselves happier with their lot. Doing something stupid like this will have serious consequences."

She locks her jaw and I recognize it as her way of blocking out the world. She doesn't do it often, but when she does there's nothing that can be said to her that will actually make it from her ears to her brain so she can register it.

"Fran, you're not a little kid! You can't be so immature about something like this. If Liam doesn't want the baby, fine, fuck him. In the end, that baby needs you. If you didn't want it, then you shouldn't have been spreading your damn legs."

Somehow that seems to break through her barrier. Her eyes narrow into menacing slits and her pose grows gracefully defensive. "You will not be telling me how I'm going to handle things, Michelle! What the hell do you know about any of it, huh?"

"Please, be your worst self." I dare her, knowing how much she hates to be called out. "Destroy me if you must. Get it off your chest." I wave a dismissive hand, waiting for the swell of angry, mostly-true comments to start flying off her tongue. 

Her hands ball up into clenched fists and her face twists up in anger. "What do you know about me? My life? My decisions? You're still a damn purist!"

I sigh and roll my eyes, waiting for her to continue with her whips that will eventually result in her crumbling into tears and apologies. We've been through this too many times in the past and I know her too well to let it fracture our relationship. We say wicked things to one another then kiss and make up.

"You've never been kissed, you're still a virgin. You don't even let boys touch you!"

I purse my lips and nod in agreement, urging her to continue. 

"Kyle is all over you and you're always starting shit!"

"Oh?" I say with a mocking raise of the eyebrows. "So I should just let pieces of shit like him put his hands all over me because he's the only one interested and I'm desperate?"

She raises her chin a fraction as my words hit home.

"You know what he did to me, Fran." I say flatly, crossing my legs patiently. "And you know that for that, one of your previous assumptions is untrue. Please continue so we can get through this to the meat and potatoes of this conversation - why you're so eager to end it all when this is the beginning of the rest of your life. You'd make a great mother, honestly. You're like one to me... Albeit a little more on the raunchy side of things with your comments, but still a maternal figure all the same." I shrug. "You know I don't like this side of you, it scares me a bit to be honest because I don't know what to expect from you. It pains me to say I'll be waiting for someone to tell me you've gone and done something crazy."

Her frown deepens and she crosses her arms across her chest. 

"You can be angry at me if you want, but I am just trying to be realistic. Not only do you need to have a plan B, but you need a plan C, all the way to fuckin' Z. Giving yourself one choice on how to live your life then becoming heartbroken when it doesn't come to fruition doesn't count as a plan."

"Your realism is hurtful." She murmurs. 

"Would you prefer me sugarcoating it so we can be here all night? You've got to be stronger than this, stronger than me. If my weak comments are enough to bring you to your knees, you're never going to make it out there... Stop taking everything as an insult, I know it's scary right now and your body is all over the place, but for the love of God, hear the words and don't take it to heart. I don't hate you, I have nothing against you, and I want to help you. You just have to help me help you."

Her chest rises and falls rapidly as she weighs her options. "I'm sorry," she mutters regretfully, "I know you mean well, but honestly your delivery could use some work. I can't bring myself to consider the alternatives if Liam isn't the one... Not when I've already got so much committed to it."

"It's something you've gotta prepare for..." I say in an authoritative but soft tone, looking down at the small folded piece of paper in my hands, running it between my fingers as I think. "But, I will do this for you if it's truly what you want. Just please keep in mind that the things we want we hardly ever get. I don't want you to have your heart set on it, okay? I love you too much to watch you fall to pieces."

She nods, gaze on the floor between us.

"I will take this to him tomorrow for you... Unless you'd like us to break you out for the evening?" I offer.

She thinks about it for a moment. "Are you going to get into trouble doing it? I don't want you to end up in here with me because honestly, it sucks." 

I shake my head, "We're careful... And if we plan adequite distractions, getting in here should be no problem at all."

"What about getting me back? What if the Sisters check on me during the night and find that I am not here? I don't think I have any strikes left, Missy." 

"We can stuff a dummy for you... Anyways, I think it'd be better coming from you, but of course, I can still deliver the note for you if you'd prefer." 

She sighs and comes back across the room to take her spot back on the edge of the bed, and she reaches for the letter. I hand it to her and she looks down at it, firming up the creases in the paper as she runs her fingers across it.

"I'll send this with you... In case it doesn't work. But you're right, I need to do it myself. He needs to hear it from me, not the third-party observation team." She offers me a small smirk, but when it mixes with the fear and doubt in her eyes it looks strange on her face.

"I appreciate you coming here tonight... God, I was such a bitch to you..." She mumbles regretfully. 

I shake my head, "I've had worse, you know that. Hell, it's you who helped put an end to the bullying in our dorm. I got tired of having a new broken bone and sprain each week." I smile at her warmly. 

She opens her mouth to speak, but the bedroom door opens and Sam quickly lets himself in. "Someone's coming, I'm going to hide in the closet at the end of the hall so I can still let you out. Missy, you might want to disappear now." He nods towards the bed we sit upon. I nod quickly and get up.

His brown-eyed gaze flickers to Fran and he gives her a polite nod. "See ya in a minute."

He's gone in a second and I'm squirming under the bed while Fran hangs her quilt over the edge of the bed to look like it's naturally draped and not trying to hide something underneath. About thirty seconds later, the lock clicks and the door opens. I can't see much from behind her cleverly draped quilt besides the sleek black heels and dark tights of one of the sisters.

"Francine, what are you still doing up? It's late."

"Why are you visiting me, then?" Fran responds shortly. 

"Since you're awake, I suppose I can inform you of the latest change to your case."

"Oh?"

"Because you are a minor, it is out of your control. Your eighteenth birthday is September 19th, three months from now. A lot will change for you in those three months, including your residency."

"What do you mean?" Fran asks uncertainly.

"You will be transferred to a Women's Clinic in upstate New York. There you will receieve the proper care needed throughout your pregnancy. The Clinic is a branch supported by the St. Francis Home. You'll feel right at home, I assure you."

"What if I do not want to go? Do I have no say in my own life?"

"It's like I said before, until you're the legal adult age to handle your own qualms, your care and wellbeing belongs to the state. Until then, a council will make the best decisions for you that they can going forward."

"...What about after I'm eighteen? What happens then?"

"We can discuss this deeper tomorrow morning in my office," the Sister says. "You'll want for nothing, you will be taken care of."

"What about after the baby is born? Will I still be supported by the home and clinic, or will you all be quick to drop me?" Fran asks with a hint of venomous irritation in her voice. 

"We can discuss this in the morning." She repeats, ignoring her question. "Get some sleep, I do believe this will be a tiring couple weeks for you."

She leaves without saying anything else. I stay silent and in place for an additional thirty seconds until the door creaks open again and Sam steps in, whispering that it is clear, but that we should probably get moving before we get caught.

I crawl out from under the bed and straighten my skirt, looking over at her sitting cross-legged on her bed, staring at the wall with an unblinking gaze. Sam has his converse toe wedged into the door to keep it from closing, his gaze flitting around everywhere, trying not to be noticeably awkward. Fran's distant gaze drags over to settle on him and her brow pinches a bit as she studies him in confusion, trying to make sense of the boy who so eagerly followed me here. 

"You're... Sam, right?" She asks, her tone low and lifeless with the slightest hint of curiosity in it. He meets her gaze and nods. "Sam Morgan... I'd come over to shake your hand, but then we'd all be stuck in here." He chuckles nervously, looking terribly out of place and a bit uncomfortable joining a conversation littered with comments about the birds and the bees. 

She laughs, the breathy sound shattering the sadness in her voice. "It's okay... That would not be a good thing."

She hesitates, then extends her hand towards me, the folded note in her hand. I accept it, handling it carefully. 

"I'll try and tell him myself, but incase the plan tomorrow night all goes south, I need to know that he knows somehow." 

"I've got this." I assure her with a nod, looking over at Sam. "I know the party scene isn't your thing, want to help me get her out of here tomorrow night?"

"I'm in." He replies with a prideful smile and a nod. "We'll get you there."

Fran's eyes flicker between us and then something crosses them and a sly smile slinks across her lips, but I'm grateful that she doesn't voice her thoughts. I can see in her eyes what she's thinking, and I know she is about to call us out for looking like a 'cute couple'. She's never seen me with a boy ever, and her cutesy-maternal side is taking over and now she's got this sly, proud look on her face. 

"I appreciate it," She smiles, getting up to come give me a hug. I hug her tightly, my inner mind warning me that it could be for the last time. When she pulls away, she smiles at Sam warmly. 

"You two should probably get out of here... No need to have your necks stuck out for me all night. I'll see you tomorrow?"

"Of course." 

"Be careful out there," she warns "nights like these when the weather is psychotic and the guards are changing their routes because of the storm, it's the perfect recipe for disaster." 

"We'll be careful," I assure her as I head towards the door that Sam still has propped open. He offers me a tiny sympathetic smile as I step past him into the hallway. I look back to her. "Goodnight, Fran. Love you."

"Love you too, Missy." She says in her normal tone, but tonight it lacks the semi-joking undertone that always accompanies it. Sam waves sheepishly one last time before closing the door behind him. I keep the piece of paper in the palm of my hand, doubtful but hopeful it's the one place that the rain won't get to it on our outdoor expedition back to our respective rooms. 

The hallways are quiet, and to our delight, the guards are currently doing a shift change, so no one is manning the maze behind the administrative counter. We get back out the window down the hall easily, and slip out onto the dumpster. Sam has to help hoist me up the wall, though, because like we learned last night, I lack any form of upper body strength. 

We stand upright, looking up to the dark sky. It's still raining, but it's not a drowning downpour now, just a misty sprinkle settling over us in gentle waves. 

"Well... Damn." I sigh, my mind vacant and mostly at peace, but still racing. "I feel like for every question she answered, she left another one in her wake. I feel drained." 

He jumps down from the dumpster and I follow him down to ground level. We walk along the alley way in silence for a moment before he speaks. 

"How long have you known her? Fran?"

"Let's see... I've been here since I was three, and she was relocated here from an orphanage in Alabama two years later... I've known of her for eleven years, but we've been friends for six. I don't associate much with people outside my dorm or classes, so we never really saw each other. I was at the height of my bullying stint when the Sister's made her my roommate after one of the other girls got adopted. Lena, my other close friend, she was brought in a year later and has shared the same room with us since. The two of them are family to me now." 

He nods thoughtfully. "Bullying? What was that about?"

I shift my jaw uncomfortably and he senses my dissatisfaction with the topic change. 

"You don't have to explain if you don't want to." He quickly amends, peeking over at me to see if he's fucked everything up.

I stop walking and fully face him, "Do you see it?"

"See what?"

I point at the bridge of my nose, turning my head slightly to expose the bump in the cartilage that gives me the appearance of having a Roman nose. It's mostly unnoticeable otherwise.

"The girls in my dorm used to gang up on me... Sometimes still do... And they'd experiment with seeing which bones they could break in my body. I've always been a little unnaturally scrawny, and it made me an easy target to them. My nose has been broken and fractured a total of six times." 

He grimaces as I say this. "Ouch."

"When Fran first got put in my dorm, I feared the worst... That she'd receive the same foul treatment I had, or that she'd join the others to better her odds against them. It was an agonizingly slow warm-up process between us. And I mean, there was never any epic, heroic moment when she saved me from them that would go on to forge us together for a lifetime... We just slowly welded together into a small fortress against the others."

I shrug, watching my bare-footed step carefully on the uneven stone walkway. It's a wonder the Sisters haven't noticed the grimey black on the soles of my feet in the mornings before I wash them off and get dressed. For an eagle-eyed bunch, it surprises me that they'd miss a detail like that one.

"They've never really picked on her, to be honest... Maybe a bit of name calling here and there but nothing to ruffle her feathers, really. I feel like perhaps I picked up the slack and unknowingly took the beatings for her. It's almost like a rite of passage in this place to get your ass kicked at least once."

We are headed towards the rear garden now, where it will be a bit easier to access the roof. Sam has been mostly silent during the walk back, but now his face is twisted up in a look of deep thought like there's something he wants to say.

We begin the careful climb back to the rooftop, climbing on top of awnings and gripping the many gargoyles for support as we scramble up the rigid stone wall, careful not to let the light of nearby light posts illuminate us. 

I reach the roof first (surprisingly) and turn back to give him a hand up. 

"Right..." I sigh, looking towards the building that houses my dormitory, "Unless there's more business to be discussed, I guess this is where the evening ends."

It sounds so final, and it hangs oddly in the air after I say it as though this is for the last time. "That sounded... Dark." I murmur with a nervous laugh in a bleak attempt to lighten the mood.

"... How were you so calm through all of that?" He asks suddenly, his posture awkward, words accompanied by the chorus of rain drizzling from gutters all around us. We stand facing each other, seven feet of space between us. In the dim light provided by the moon trying to push through the thick, low-hanging clouds, I can see hs face twisted up in a mask of curosity and confusion. 

"What do you mean?"

He fidgets a bit, seeming to lack his bout of normally confident and flamboyant comments. "Well, I heard you both talking. I heard what she said to you."

His dark eyes peek up from under his lashes nervously to search mine for a sign he has crossed a barrier.

I shrug a bit and sigh, "It's the dynamic relationship we have," I explain, clapping my hands against my legs. "we say hurtful stuff we don't mean and then are back to being the best of friends after a moment. No harm done."

My concern and confusion goes deeper when he continues to give me that look he previously had.

"What?"

"It's not how you said it to one another, it's what you said. What she said. It sounded like she was bringing up some really dark stuff for you, and you were so calm through it, never even raising your voice... How?" 

"Oh..." I puff out my cheeks and take a deep breath, trying to sort my thoughts and figure out the proper way to deal with this misfortune. I hadn't even thought about how those doors are probably paper thin, specifically for the purpose of listening in from the outside. Of course he heard everything, whether I, or even him, wanted to.

"I guess... I've just made my peace with it." I sigh, shrugging, not knowing what else to say or how far to really go into it. "It's been ongoing for the last... Fourish years? Anyways, once, it went too far. I told only Fran and Lena and no one else, and that fucker got away with it because I was terrified of what the Sisters would do to me if I told. Would he make himself look like a victim to get me into trouble? In the moment it was just easier to let it go."

"But he...?"

I shake my head, "Sam, we really don't have to go into all of this." I say as calmly and nonchalantly as I can manage, but there is an underlying nervous shake to my voice. It's not that we don't have the time to go into it, it's that I simply can't bring myself to vocalize my discontent with things that have happened to me on an intimate level... Especially not with him. 

"I just want to help you," He explains, his accent heavy as he lowers his voice. I look into his eyes, his face framed with his dark disheveled locks. His brown eyes pleading for me to confide in him.

"You'll be helping me plenty by forgetting we had this conversation," I tell him with kind firmness. "I appreciate your concern, really, but it's fine. I'm over it, and it's not on-going."

He looks doubtful in my lies and I bite on the inside of my lip to ease my discomfort. Finally, he sighs and nods, "Alright. If you say so."

The night is quiet and still, and with the rain almost completely stopped, it's almost eerie. 

"So tomorrow night?"

"I'm in," He reassures with confidence. "We'll smuggle her out and get her... Where?"

"Storage building. It's the domed one way over there." 

I point in the general direction, but the fog looming low over the buildings has concealed it from view. "You can't miss it... And the party, are you going?"

He crosses his arms and takes an unplanned cool stance. "Would you like me to?"

I blush beet red in the darkness, grateful for the first time tonight that it is so dim. "You're free to do whatever you please," I respond in an easy-going manner. "It probably won't be that fun, anyways. It's not like they're going to have access to drugs, alcohol, or even music, for that matter."

"What about you?"

"Lena and Fran invited me as their third wheel." I explain, nudging towards the incentive that I don't have a date and am possibly going against my will. 

"Ay, well, it's not my scene. Sure, I could stand to get to know more people around here, but realistically, what good will that do me when I leave in a year, anyway?" He raises his eyebrows, seeking appraisal from me.

I nod, "Understandable. Why put down any roots when you're going to be planted somewhere else? Goodnight, Sam."

I give him as warm of a smile as I can manage with the disappointment swelling in my chest. I have no right to be upset or even annoyed with him. He came here against his will, and he'll leave the day he turns eighteen. I'm foolish to believe that these two nights we've spent hanging out will actually amount to anything besides an awkward relationship that will seize to exist when he does go.

"Goodnight, Missy." 

There's a little spark of hurt in his eyes as he says this, but he smiles back anyway. I turn and begin making my way towards my dormitory, briefly casting a last look over my shoulder to see him going the other way.

To say my mind is a mess would be an understatement. It's an insane fun house at the moment where everything feels colorful and exciting because I've just met the most incredible person. He shares my interests, enjoys self-depreciating humor and mocking others, all while giving a genuine fuck what happens to the people around him. If there are others like him in this place, I've yet to meet them.

Despite how I think we've connected, I do believe he'll be collecting his brother as soon as he's eighteen and they'll split. 

A strong gust of wind comes up and whips around me, almost causing me to lose my balance. 

I am undoubtedly curious of him. He is very strange and different to the boys I've grown to know. The ones like Kyle that want from you, and take from you, not caring what harm is caused in their wake. The things Kyle did were inexcusable, but in my twisted mind, it's somehow better than recounting the trauma to Father Duffy so he can make a case of it. 

I squirm back through the propped stain glass window at the end of the hallway on my floor, being careful to peek in before jumping in feet first. I hurry as quickly and quietly as I can back to my room, gently closing the door behind me and adjusting my steps to sounds drunken and half awake on the way back to my bed.

I lie down, surrounded by the chorus of snores and heavy breathing. I comb my fingers through my hair a couple times to fix the matted mess it'd become in the storm. I can feel the moisture from my clothes soaking eagerly into the dry fabric around me. My inner voice is warning me to get up and put on some dry, clean clothes but I'm too tired to drag myself back to my feet again. I close my eyes, and when I open them again it's dawn, and the room is busy with its normal brand of chaos. 

Brandi and Jeanette are bickering over something that happened yesterday at lunch while shoving their arms through their blouse sleeves and yanking up half a stocking. Lydia is singing the National Anthem loudly while straightening her sheets, and Lena is putting on her shoes, under her eyes are dark purple rings from a sleepless night.

I make mental plans to meet with her after lunch to explain everything. Lena is the only other person besides Fran in this place that I trust with such dark secrets. I'm still a little on the fence about Sam to be honest.

Sister Amelia enters the room just as I am quickly swapping out the damp, heavily wrinkled night dress for the standard pastel blue cotton uniform. I glance up curiously as she attempts to be low-key checking the padlocks on the windows. 

Today is bound to be interesting, I am sure... With a planned jailbreak and sneak out, our evening has become more dangerous and exciting.


	7. Devil's Kind

"Beer stains and cigarettes, the party is in my pocket  
I'm looking for a drink, and a couch to call my own  
Give me a bump and I will call, and whisper dirty lies  
The rapture in your ear  
And we'll both be terrified

Bloodshot eyes and your peppermint  
We can run like dogs from the devil  
Gimme one last try for your love tonight  
I'll be the king forever  
And you can be my sunshine

We are the devil's kind ."

The Devil's Kind - The Longshot

I caught up with Lena as I entered the lunchroom. Immediately, she grabbed my arm and towed me towards a more secluded space behind a pillar, where she began interrogating me, firing off questions like an automatic rifle.

"Okay, alright, I have information if you'll chill for a moment?" I hold my palms up and her question spewing comes to an immediate halt, eagerness in her eyes as I begin to explain. "I visited her last night in the isolation rooms. She's okay, but I don't know for how long. One of the Sisters came in while I was there and told her they are sending her to a Women's Clinic in New York where she'll be taken care of until delivery... They're supposed to talk with her more in-depth today about the arrangements."

"Shit..." Lena mutters under her breath, combing her fingers through her hair in a distressed fit. "Do you know how long she has until she has to leave? Can she come back to the dorm and her classes yet?"

I shake my head, "They're sending her off by the end of the week with no chance of her returning to her normal schedule in the meantime. All of this will occur unless Fran can successfully act out her plan... Brace yourself."

"Oh no." She groans, throwing her head back.

"She gave me a note to give to Liam tonight if she can't make it. In the letter, she explains her plan of them both escaping and running away together to somewhere near Washington or Oregon. Her mother apparently has family up there somewhere. She refuses to have the baby without Liam there to support it, and the problem there is that he is sixteen and can't get out of here for another year and a half." 

Lena's forehead creases in deep thought and concern as she evaluates my words. "She wouldn't do something ridiculous... Would she? If things don't go her way?"

"She's terrified of this baby." I murmur, "Having Liam by her side through it all is the only way she'll go through with it. If she tells him about the baby and her plan and he decides that he wants no part in it, I don't know what she'll do. I highly doubt she'll willingly go stay at that clinic, though." 

She looks down at the floor, concern in her eyes. Finally, she shakes her head and sighs.

"I'm supposed to help her break out of her isolation room tonight so she can talk to him at the party... Though I honestly haven't decided if that's even a good idea yet... Like you, I'm worried of what she'll do if it's not the way she wants it to be, or if she runs away with him and puts herself into harms way over it anyways. We both know how stubborn she can be."

"Unfortunately." Lena sighs, wringing her fingers in one of her stressed fits.

I look up, taking a sheepish glance around the lunchroom, both praying that I would, and wouldn't meet the brown eyes of an all-too-familiar face. Lena's finger-snapping brought me back to Earth.

"Yeah?"

She cocks her head at me questioning and then decides to let it go. "What about you? Have you had an in-depth discussion with her yet?"

"I tried last night," I admit with a nonchalant shrug, remembering all the good that had come from it. "but she became immediately defensive when I began to pick apart her plan. I don't remember her ever being this frail in the past. She had more of a spine and a pair of big girl panties when it came to trouble coming her way... I think this whole pregnancy thing has just gotten her all out of whack. Her emotions are a scattered mess at the moment."

"I would expect so... Even the most prepared of mothers face waves of crippling uncertainty when faced with doubt from their peers. Her reaction is justified."

I nod, my gaze flitting across the lunchroom again. I know I can't avoid him forever, or even all day for that matter... But even so, I'm not ready to face him yet.

"You're distant today," Lena comments with concern in her tone. "Is there anything else going on?"

"Yeah, about a million things." I murmur absently, looking around the room again. "I'm having a boy problem at the moment to be honest."

Her eyes flicker with interest. "Really? Who?"

"I don't know if you've seen him or met him yet, but his name is Sam Morgan. He's the newest edition."

She shakes her head no.

"I met him on the night of his arrival, indirectly, though... I was sneaking out that night when he and his brother were having a go against Father Duffy in the courtyard. He spotted me on the rooftop and we met the night before last up there."

"I'm not seeing the problem?" She hedges awkwardly.

"The problem now is that he is fully aware of all this Fran nonsense... He was there when we caught the first inkling of wrongdoing, and he helped me sneak into the archives and isolation row last night. He's too far in to not be a liability at this point." I murmur, feeling a pang of regret referring to him as though he were nothing more than an expendable acquaintance.

Her brow furrows. "Do you trust this guy?"

I sigh and shrug. "I do, at least I think I do. He's a stranger, what am I supposed to do? Give him the keys to my life and tell him 'try not to fuck it up'?"

She laughs, and it shocks me. It's a lighthearted, simple cackle that boldly contrasts the conversation we've been so absorbed in.

"How are you laughing?" I ask, trying not to sound wounded by her lack of maturity on the topic.

"Honey, it's okay!"

I narrow my eyes in confusion. "What?"

"I can see it in your eyes and hear it in your voice. Your entire demeanor betrays your words."

"No more riddles."

"You have a crush on him!" She accuses, keeping her voice low and out of earshot of the other students. My panicked gaze searches the eyes of those nearby in case they'd heard too much. I'm used to being the only one who has deep, dark secrets and knowledge on everyone. I honestly don't like the feeling of the tables being turned, and it annoys me when Sam's words come back to mind about me being a hypocrite.

"Missy!" She squeals proudly, squeezing my shoulders before hugging me with a massive grin on her face. I groan and accept the embrace, frowning the entire time because I'd already been found out. Doubt begins to seep in as I realize Sam may already know, as well... Cool, let's add 'unrequited love' to the list of problems we now have to sort together.

"I'm so happy for you!"

"Don't be," I groan, "even if I had a crush on him, it will never come to fruition because I will not allow it. He's a raunchy Boston boy with experience from the outside, what kind of pair would we make?"

"Famous last words." She quips with an elbow jab to my ribs. I swat her hand away, trying hard to fight the urge to scan the lunch room again for his face.

"And anyway, it's not like that. He's just helping me bust Fran out tonight."

She gives me a skeptical look, "Just because it's not how it is doesn't mean that it's not how you feel. Emotions can be both a blessing and a curse, you know that."

"Lena..." I groan, and she shoots me one of her bright smiles.

"I know I know, I'm just giving you some shit. Y'know that without Fran here to do it, someone has to carry the torch in her place."

~~~

It's no surprise that almost everyone is going to the party. Come midnight, an hour and a half after lights-out, all the girls in our room, myself and Lena included, worked on picking one of the padlocks on the windows and slipping out into the night.

Although we could never treat this experience like the average house party, we would act accordingly, pumping ourselves up for an evening of freedom and rebellion from the strict norm. Not going to lie, I'm pretty excited. As I stood by my bed, hurriedly undoing all my evening braids for what I could manage as a 'new look', I thought of Sam.

We'd made no real plans on where to meet and when, but midnight at the clock tower sounds about right. I'd have to break off from the group to go liberate Fran from her cell.

Sam lacked having any real interest regarding the party. Sneaking around seems to be the only hobby of his that I know at the moment. I, of course, made my weak efforts to change his mind, but only seemed to have succeeded in making myself look like a hopeless girl.

I donned my freshly washed knit cardigan and Lena tugged on my arm when it was time to go, a nervous but excited smile lighting up her features. It's in moments like these that I truly see her and how beautiful she is, with her pale, porcelain-like complexion, black pixie-cut hair (it's a wonder that the Sisters let her keep it styled that way) and hazel eyes shrouded in long, dark lashes.

She is a very reserved and shy girl towards those she does not know, thus giving her an aura of silence. But once you truly start breaking her out of her shell, you'd soon realize all too late the powerhouse you'd uncovered.

"You're getting Fran now, right? With Sam?" She whispers to me when my bullies are busying themselves with squeezing through the window.

I nod.

All of this Fran business has made me realize something crucial... Without her here to keep them at bay, what will now stop these brutes from resuming their former activities against me? Or even Lena, for that matter. We'd have to be stronger than ever before to stand our ground against them if they do decide to make their triumphant return to bully-hood. After all, Fran would want us ready and equipped to stand up for ourselves and to protect one another as she has taught us.

"I think I'll be breaking off from this group to go do it... If they know too much, they might spill the secrets and tell on us. I don't exactly trust any of them to stay tight-lipped about it." I cast a wary look over at them as the last two girls crawl through the opening. "I'll catch up with you again at the party, okay?"

She nods, "Of course. Be careful out there and don't get caught."

"Me? Never" I whisper back, laughing.

Out onto the ledge we go, following up on the rear. We'd already taken careful care to leave sleeping dummies in our wake. I propped the window behind us as we slip out in the event that one of the Sisters stop by to check in during the night.

The sky is clear and cloudless, but the usual low billows of fog misting around the buildings below is present. The full moon is casting pale moonbeams on everything. It's as good od a night as any to get into a bit of trouble.

I can't lie; I'm pretty nervous... Not because of sneaking out or socializing or any of that conventional stuff that is worthy of being worried about, but the very basic idea of seeing Sam again after our uncomfortable departure last night. His questions were simple enough and concerned, and I'm sure were coming from a place of genuine interest and not betrayal... But I still worry that I have already ruined everything by not being cautious enough of my surroundings when sharing dark secrets.

Lena is ahead of me, scooting along the stone edge outside the window while I have the rear. I find myself peeking back every now and again, worried about the one time I'll look back and see a Sister glaring at me from the bedroom window.

We step off onto the main roof with the clocktower where I would be meeting Sam soon. I shoot Lena a knowing look, and she nods in response, following behind the others quickly to distract them from the fact that I have departed from the group.

"Okay..." I murmur to myself, stepping out of their line of sight behind one of the air conditioner units. From there I wait until the loud chiming of the massive, old clock. After the twelfth chime, I step out into the open, scanning the gloomy blue shadows for the boy. I glance up at the clock face again when a minute has passed and no one has arrived.

I pace along, wearing my pair of neatly shined black Mary-Janes. They're ugly as hell, but the blisters I'll gain walking across the estate will be far uglier than if I just wear them. The quiet clicking of my heels on the stone is the only sound surrounding me on this quiet night.

I crease Fran's letter over and over between my fingers, pacing anxiously as the minutes drag on. What did I do?... Was he that mad with me after last night? I hope I didn't offend him, it wasn't my intention. He gave me his word, though. He agreed to help me get Fran out, and he doesn't seem like the kind who whips out promises left and right in a frenzy to break them... No, something has happened, hasn't it?

I'm biting on my lip and winding a loose threat from my pale brown cardigan around my index finger while I pace when a voice calls out to me, but it's not at all the one I'd expected. I turn to find Fran coming towards me, and a few feet behind her, Sam...

"I was under the impression that this would be a joint effort, but I can't say I'm disappointed with the outcome." She shrugs with a grin on her face that lights up the dark. "Sam's great at this kind of stuff... Seriously dude, you could be a paid assassin or something."

She shoots him a proud look, but the look I give him lacks the same emotion. "You already did it?" I ask, stating the obvious.

He spreads his arms at his sides, gesturing around to all of his greatness and the things he'd achieved. The prided smile he wears makes me want to smack him.

"I'm sorry, did I miss the part where I stated we were doing this together?"

"What's wrong, Missy? It's done. It's okay, seriously. I don't mind whoever came to get me, I'm just glad to be out of that place."

Fran looks relieved and confused as she looks at me. I feel flustered and an annoyance comes over me that feels foreign.

"I figured that I could handle things," Sam shrugs, not looking at all bothered by what he did nor sorry. "I didn't realize that it meant that much to you."

"It was my damn... You know what? Nevermind." I mutter, walking past them towards the opposite end of the roof, in the mood to be ultra-petty about it. "Then Sam, you won't mind escorting my best friend to the party then, hm?"

"I s'pose not?" He says and I don't look at him. I can hear the confusion in his voice and feel their eyes on my back as I walk confidently towards the edge of the roof. "What are you doing?"

"Letting you handle things." I say in a simple, polite tone. "You seem capable. Find your own damn way down."

I get to the edge of the roof, and step off.

I hear their shocked gasps and shrieks as I drop from sight. I land five feet below on a small awning, and from there I maneuver the wall to get to the ground below. I don't look back at them, or even give them the satisfaction of seeing me alive. I just keep to the shadows as I make my way towards the domed storage building.

"Keep it then, Sam." I mutter under my breath in annoyance as I go. "Keep it all. Break it all. Rob me of what few things I have and call it a kindness. Whatever gets you to sleep at night."

In my heart of hearts, I know that I have overreacted to the whole situation, but I can't make myself feel sorry about it. Not when I'm getting so much satisfaction from feeling like the victim.

From where I stand, I've never had personal possessions or anything that was truly mine, so the only things I've ever had going for myself was these small tasks I could do for other people, specifically people I care about. It fills me with a great feeling of satisfaction to help or aid someone, and that feeling when you've been robbed of that small victory is nothing short of feeling like a gutshot.

To make matters worse, it's fucking Sam. It's Sam, and one of my best friends on this Earth, Fran. Him pretty much snubbing his nose at me by not only taking matters into his own hands but executing it far faster than I could have just proved his superiority. I'm not strong or swift, I'm not a hero or a villain... I have no distinguishable identity. I'm just me, and this is all I have.

A side effect of all of this is my need to be theatric about everything. I could have exited the scene in any other way I deemed worthy, but I decided that giving them both a tiny heart attack with no relief when they looked over the edge was the way to go...

Maybe I'm the asshole.

It's often fun and quirky of mental teens to say 'This is just how I am, if you can't handle all my weirdness than maybe we shouldn't be friends' but the reality of it is it just makes you sound like a total psycho. I know I'm pretty messed up, but not even I will hide all my defects under that preface.

Feeling guilty and gloomy now, I can see the domed building rising out of the darkness ahead. Its marble exterior contrasts against the surrounding grey cobblestone oddly. In a few of the second story windows, I see the muted glow of candles trying to be discrete about the forbidden social gathering.

I'm not sure what everyone else had in mind as the main entrance, but I spot a broken window on the third floor that looks suitable. Even better is all the trellises and vines leading up to said window from the ground.

In a pursuit to further prove my abilities, I begin hauling myself up the wall. It's an easy enough climb with plenty of places to grab onto. I pull myself through the window, careful not to cut myself on any of the stray pieces of stained glass.

Once inside, I find myself one floor above the action. The room I'm in is large and circular and stretches the size of the entire building. In the center of the floor is a bit hole cut out with detailed stone railing guarding the edge, from there a staircase winds down around these circles cut in the centers of each floor to the ground level.

All around me is statues and unused furniture covered in discolored sheets and tarps. I peek under a couple out of curiosity, only to meet the disapproving glaring faces of carved angels and cherubs.

I can hear giddy chatter below and go to the railing to peek over and investigate. On the second floor I can see thirty plus teens chatting animatedly, but no one really looks too familiar to me. Something that catches my eye, though, is that a couple of the unfamiliar kids are wearing normal street clothes, like band shirts and baggy jeans - definitely not even attire that they could get through the lobby of this place in.

The more I look over the unfamiliar faces, the more of them I notice. My suspicions are confirmed when a twenty-something looking boy with greasy long blonde hair and high-red eyes shouts over the murmuring that the alcohol has arrived.

"Well... There goes the aspect of a quiet, calm evening..." I mutter to myself. We're so going to get caught. I need to find Lena, and then Fran and we need to get out of here as soon as she handles her business. If the sisters find her here tonight, any positive thing she has going for her ends now.

I head down the staircase, and although no one is looking at me as I ascend, I feel like a spectacle in the sea of faces, being the mysterious girl coming down from the empty third floor. My gaze flits across the faces of buzzed teens in search of the ones I'd come with. I'd have to put aside my petty issues with Fran and Sam for the moment. To be fair, Fran had done nothing wrong... Though she did defend his decision to cut me out of my own plan.

Everyone is now carrying those red Solo cups automatically associated with alcohol, and considering the substance only just showed up, the air already stinks of its fumes.

With a deep breath, I venture away from the safety of the empty staircase into the crowd, rambunctious bodies grinding against one another and then against me, their sticky, clammy skin sticking to mine and making it sting when pulled away.

"Excuse me, coming through, behind you... Move the fuck out of the way." I say as I push through, gently at first, and then with some fire to fight back against the harsh shoving movement of the crowd. I'm not sure whose idea it was, or how they executed it, but someone had invited these outsiders to our high-security orphanage for an alcohol-based party.

Not long after, somewhere in the heart of the crowd, someone started playing music on a boombox. Luckily, the domed storage building sits by itself at the far corner of the estate with no real noteworthy buildings surrounding it, and it's a Friday night so the faculty will be enjoying their friendly game night with non-alcoholic beverages, ignoring the children for an evening... That's not saying they won't be checking in, though.

As I'm pushing through, the same hippy-boy from before approaches me with a cup. He hands it to me with a friendly smile. "Here, this'll ease your nerves. Social gatherings always stress me out, too."

I look down at the golden liquid at the bottom of the red glass and I spin it around a bit while I contemplate the side effects of drinking it.

"Thanks." I murmur, taking a small sip of it, the overwhelming bitterness invading my mouth and saturating my tongue. I force down a little more of it as I venture through the party scene, waiting for the miracle liquid to kick in and give me the liquid courage to swing from the ceiling or something.

"Oh... There we go..." I murmur. After seven minutes, I can start to feel my head throbbing, though I don't think that's normally a feeling associated with getting buzzed... Is it? I drink more, and as time goes on, my vision begins to get a little blurrier and my walk is sluggish.

I'm almost to the edge of the crowd when someone's clammy hand grabs my elbow and pulls me back in. I turn to face the buzzed Kyle and my stomach sinks in dread.

"Missy!" He praises me, raising his cup into the air, a proud grin on his face that his lackeys at his side share. They look over me with appraising eyes that make my skin crawl. I withdraw my arm from his grip, careful not to come off as though I am in a hurry or bothered by his actions... That'd only cause him to react negatively.

"You made it!"

I smile at him as convincingly as I can although my creep-o-meter is shrieking inside of my head. "Yeah, I did... I actually have to-"

"Totally hang out with us!" Kyle says, whipping me under his arm and guiding me rather forcefully back into the heart of the celebration. His gaze peers down on me, and I can tell he's just sober enough to be fully aware of his actions.

"I have to find someone first." I object, once again attempting to slither off.

His grip over my shoulders tightens firmly until he's just gripping my head in his elbow in a half-assed headlock. He drags me along with him, smiling in a friendly fashion to anyone who looks to ward off any potential concern.

He leads me to an adjacent hallway with two doors on either side. He tries the handle of the first door, and when it opens, he pushes us both in, telling his friends outside something before shutting the door behind him and pushing me up against the wall in an attempt to be intimate.

"Kyle-"

"What? Aren't you having fun? This is a party, loosen up, Missy." He sneers, getting his face close enough to mine that I can smell the cheap liquor rolling off his tongue. His hands run up over my chest and press onto my collarbone, his fingers curling around my neck slightly as he locks me into a vise grip against the wall.

"Leave me alone." I mutter, gathering the courage to look him dead in the eyes as I speak. I see his soul in that instant but it doesn't have good intentions. Even in my hazy state, all the red flags are going off, and every alarm is screaming at me get the hell out of here.

"What the hell is your problem?" He demands, having the gall to act offended. "We've done this before, why are you having second thoughts this time? Huh? Wasn't I good enough?"

"You're being fucking stupid." I say through clenched teeth, feeling his fingertips pressing into my neck further, causing my breaths to become more strained.

"We had fun last time," He says, ignoring my comment. "We're gonna have fun again."

"What about it was fun?" I dare to ask, "You didn't care what I felt, you didn't care what you did. I was expendable to you. Why the fuck would I want to do that with you again?"

"Isn't it obvious? If you hadn't enjoyed it, you would have told. You would have gone to Father Duffy and tattled on me... But you didn't. You kept quiet this entire time, so that we could come back to have this moment together."

He pushes a rough, sloppy kiss onto my cheek and I strain back against him, shoving at his chest and aiming to stomp on his toes with my shoes.

"I love it when they fight back." He says huskily into my ear, making my skin crawl.

"Okay." I reply calmly, looking up at him into his eyes, trying to be discreet as I peek at his ear exposed from under tufts of his blonde hair. He leans in again with lustful eyes to plant a kiss on my neck. I wait until he's really wedged in before I act.

"I love it when they bite back."

I bring my mouth down on the side of his head, digging into the upper cartilage of his ear. I bite down hard, listening to his shrieks of agony while he tries to pry his head back from mine. I let go of him and he stumbles back onto his ass, gripping his ear in pain. I could have left right then, but the pent-up rage from always being a victim to this prick took over. I had to kick him while he was down. I aimed for his nether regions and kicked him hard, getting mild amusement from the cries that followed that action.

"Leave me the fuck alone!" I shout at him inches from his face. "If you fucking talk to me again, I will cut your fucking dick off, do you fucking understand me?!"

He doesn't respond, he's too occupied with whimpering and rolling on the dusty wood floor, cradling his damaged ear.

"Shithead." I mutter as I straighten my shirt and head back into the hall, shutting the door behind me while his friends outside try to get a peek inside, confusion on their faces when they hear his wailing.

"Oh, I gave him the time of his life." I tell them dryly, looking them each in the eye for a moment before moving on. I merge into the crowd again before Kyle can collect himself and come looking for me.

The music is loud and the voices around me are just a droning hum sounding more like a swarm of bees than a collection of people. It's the candlelight and all the noise... All of it makes the room spin, causing me to grip my head.

The tears come now and I can't stop them. I lift my head, searching in a panic for a friendly face, but they're all those hippy outsiders. Their judging gazes perch on my face, and they shake their heads as I push past. Somewhere in my distraught stumbling, someone put a cup in my hand and told me in a fuzzy voice "Here, you need this more than I do."

I downed it in seconds, wincing against the warm bitterness spreading across my tongue. I chucked the cup in an arc over the crowd and stumbled in further, wiping at my eyes and studying my shaking palms.

I'm too damn fucked up.

I lean heavily against the wall of the second-floor stairwell, struggling to catch my breath and to ward off the potential panic attack. Slow, deep, even breaths come and go in a feeble attempt to calm down. I keep looking up in a panic, silently praying that someone would notice that something wasn't right and check in... But they never did. Everyone was so busy in their small lives, dancing, making out and talking, that they would never notice the girl losing herself in the corner.

Dear God it happened again... Do I deserve it? Am I doing something wrong? Do I just accidentally portray myself as some kind of fantasy girl, and it just draws in all the eager boys and the worst kind of people?...

I raise my head again and I finally spot Lena there in a break in the crowd, talking to a boy I don't recognize. He's tall, and pretty good-looking, I guess... His clothes beckon back to a biker lifestyle with his tousled hair, leather jacket and dark jeans with ripped V-neck shirt.

I drag my heavy gaze to the right, and against the far wall I can make out Liam and Fran... Arguing. They're pointing fingers at each other, and their foreheads are creased in mutual frustration.

... How much time has passed? How long have I actually been here?

I stumble towards Lena, tripping over my own feet in the process. She reaches for me and catches me before I fall on my face.

"Missy! Fran told me what you did. Walking off the roof? You gave her a heart attack!" She begins scolding me before she catches the glazed over, stoned look in my eyes. Missy? Are you okay?"

I lift my chin, attempting to open my eyes completely to look bright-eyed and capable, but I must have come off as a major charity case because she reaches for my forehead to take my temperature, completely forgetting about her date to care for me.

"Honey, what's wrong? What's happened?"

"I need some fresh air." I breathe, my gaze scanning the room for a sign of trouble. "Can you help me get upstairs?..."

"Of course... I'll be right back." She says to biker-boy as she hitches her arm under mine, hoisting most of my weight to drag me up the steps. I pitch in as much as I can on the way. I'm tripping over my own feet on the way to the stairs, fearing that I'll either black out or fall on my face. At that moment, another arm wraps under my left arm, opposite Lena. I open my eyes and peek over in confusion at who has pitched in to help drag my sorry ass upstairs. I catch his gaze for a moment, brown eyes concerned but still wounded from my earlier actions.

"Come on, there's a spot upstairs she can rest." He tells Lena instead of speaking to me directly. My stomach churns and I feel uneasy. Were my theatrics enough to make him hate me? I already loathe myself.

"Jesus, Missy! How damn much did you have to drink?" Lena demands.

"... Not much?" I murmur, my speech slurring a bit. "A shot's worth, at best..."

"Either you're a total light-weight, or you've been drugged." She sighs in concern, getting me up onto the landing. From there she helps me over to the window I entered through earlier for fresh air. Together, they prop me up against the wall beneath the window, a cool breeze is blowing in, helping me clear my mind. I reach up to clutch my head in my hands in an effort to subside the growing headache caused by the spinning of the room.

Lena murmurs as she crouches by my side on the floor, patting my forehead. "Honey, where did you get the alcohol?"

I shrug weakly, "Some guy was handing them out..."

"Did he have blonde hair?" Sam asks, seeming all-too informed.

"Yeah... Kinda..."

"Did he tell you something along the lines of cure to anxiety at a party?" He inquired further, to which I nod weakly, closing my eyes, breathing deeply through my mouth.

"Damn it..." He growls under his breath. "Well, the good news is that what he gave you was just a sedative, nothing too major. It should wear off within a few hours or so. Bad news was how much he gave you. Wayne is such a fucking dumbass..." He mutters the last bit under his breath, gaining the confusion and interest of Lena.

"Wayne? You know him?"

"He's from my old neighborhood where I lived with my Dad for a bit. He spent all his time selling that shit to kids, telling them it was the hard stuff and charged them double what it cost him to buy it at the pharmacy. He's a wannabe drug dealer with zero morals or values."

I feel Lena's hands against my forehead and cheeks again and she sighs. "I'm gonna go get you some water, maybe that'll help speed up the sobering process. Sam, could you keep an eye on her?... I mean, Missy, is that okay if Sam stays with you?"

I hear the hesitation in her voice and understand immediately what she's getting at. I open my eyes long enough to look her in the eyes and nod. "Yeah, that's fine..."

After she goes, silence falls between us, but it's not awkward. I can still hear the music and conversation going on downstairs.

"I'm sorry." I mumble to fill the silence, choosing not to open my eyes and look back into his wounded ones, showing all the doubt he has for me now that I've proved myself to be absolutely mental.

"For what?"

"I'm a bitch... I s'pose that I should have told you that the night we met... I'm a liar, a bit narcissistic... I'm overly protective and loyal and easily get angered and jealous... I'm a hypocrite, I'm psychotic, and I'm lame. I'm not a very good friend all the time, even when I try to be. I let people down and mislead, I let awful things happen to me... And do nothing about it. I'm an awful person, Sam. And for that, I am sorry."

"Hey now... You might be drugged, but that doesn't mean it's honesty-hour." He says in a chastising fashion, and I fight the urge to laugh, ultimately failing. I chuckle quietly and hear him sigh. "Yeah, well..."

"I'm sorry, too... I shouldn't have stepped on your toes, and I should have known where the line was drawn."

"There was never a line." I murmur. "And you never crossed it. I don't like the idea of trusting an outsider, so any reason I could come up with to dislike you is what I felt I had to go with."

"What about last night? I know I got kinda pushy with the information, and I know it's extremely private of me to have asked. You hardly know me, anyway."

I shake my head slowly, smiling slightly. "No, I don't. But I will, won't I? I mean if I haven't scared you away tonight with my stupid shit."

He laughs, and it sounds relieved. "No. I will admit, it scared the crap out of me, and then I was pretty pissed afterward... I just ask that you don't do it again?"

"You've got it, Sammy..." I murmur, my head lolling to one side as my body tries to go into forced shutdown mode. I open one eye slightly to look over at him. He's crouched there at my right side on the floor.

"And anyway, it's not the fact that you asked me about it that got me upset.... I'm more mad with myself for not taking the right actions after it actually happened. Talking about it always stirs up the same shit in me." I shrug slightly.

"Well, in the future if you... Do want to talk about it, I'd be happy to listen."

"Are you being serious?" I ask him, looking him in the eye. He nods promptly after.

I raise my eyebrows a bit, "Thanks... As you might've guessed, I don't have a lot of pals in this place to entrust with that stuff..."

He nods, looking down.

"It should never have gotten as far as it did..." I murmur as I relax against the wall, closing my eyes again. "At first it was him flirting with me, and I rejected it. I'd blow him off and leave the conversation when things got weird, my instincts screaming at me that it was time to bail... The one time things went too far, I just couldn't get away."

The vibrating beat of the music downstairs rattles through the floorboards, the only sound hanging in the air between us.

"It was during class... He'd been kicked out for disrupting, and I didn't have a class that hour... It was almost fate... Or destiny, whatever you want to call it. We ran into each other and he started talking. At first it was just friendly chatter, but with Kyle... Nothing is ever just friendly. He's always working the angles to make situations work for him. After a bit, he went right back to his flirtatious comments before straight up asking me if I wanted to have sex with him.

"I was too shocked by the bluntness of his question to speak, and he took that as an answer..."

I shift my jaw a bit as the uncomfortable part is coming up.

"He grabbed my wrists, and dragged me into one of the empty classrooms. That's where he did it."

I shrug my shoulders slightly, not knowing what other dark, twisted details to include into my storytime.

"The thing about men like Kyle is they get joy out of people telling them no. There's no authority that could control them, no one to tame them and make them see how they're wrong... They're just bad and there's nothing to be done about it. Afterward, I got the fuck out of there, his haunting laugh chasing me down the halls as I ran. There was suddenly no shadows deep and dark enough to hide my newest secret. When I went back to my next class, I felt everyone looking at me and feared that they knew what had happened..."

"I never told anyone about it except for Lena and Fran. They urged me to go tell someone, but I just couldn't. I didn't know how to go to Father Duffy, or the Sisters and tell them that I... Had been raped." I purse my lips for a moment to choke back the wave of emotions that pushed against my chest. I open my eyes again when the visuals had become too much.

Sam is still sitting semi-crouched by my side, his face pinched up in anger and sorrow. His eyes lift from the floorboards between his feet to my eyes.

"My final flaw?" I murmur quietly. "I am a coward."

There's dozens of emotions racing across his face as I look him in the eyes. I've just gone and laid my darkest secret out before him, and now it's his turn to share how well it's been received.

"You're not." He replies firmly, voice grainy and low. "You're scared, but you're no coward. Cowards don't sneak out at night to jump rooftops with strangers, or even own up to their faults. They hide from everyone's problems, including their own, but all I've seen from you is how much you own up to everything and are there for your friends no matter what twisted shit they're going through."

Great timing, Lena walks back up the stairs with a Solo cup filled with water. She hands it down to me and crouches on my other side. "You never notice the lack of faucets in a place until you need one," she jokes, "how are you feeling now?"

"Better." I reply, and even my voice sounds a little perkier. "Thanks... If you want to go back to the party, please don't worry about babying me." I give her a small smile. Her eyes go to Sam and then back to me, a coy smile forming on her lips. She doesn't say anything, but she gets up to go.

"I can help her back to the dorm, too." Sam pipes up as she heads for the stairs. I see the grin forming on her face as she heads back down.

The room around us in dark and gloomy except for the limited moonlight let in through the stained glass windows.

He's quiet for a bit longer before speaking again with curiosity "Hey, what happened to your neck?"

I open my eyes when I feel his lingering stare on the bit of exposed skin that my shirt collar did not cover. "I do not know what else there is about myself that I can not tell you." I murmur, "You seem to already know everything else."

I look at his brown eyes for a few moments before I speak again, my slurring voice making it harder to get out "It happened again."

His brow furrows in confusion "What do you mean?"

I sigh slowly, choosing my next words carefully. "Kyle." I say his name as calmly as I can manage, a mental image of him appearing in my head. "Tonight he tried again."

I've never seen someone jump to their feet so damn fast in all my life. He gets up, and walks briskly towards the stairs. "I'm going to fucking kill him!" He shouts, and it strikes me enough to sober me up. I scramble to my feet and stumble for the stairs, shouting after him.

The look in his eyes as he left... I have no doubts.


	8. The Scales of Justice

"Cause you're the one that started to make me feel this way, and every night I'm thinking about those words you'd say - cause you are the one that I want."

\- The One I Want - Green Day

I didn't ever think that I needed to add 'experienced trying to run while drunken' to my list of achievements while at the home, but here we are.

I jog swiftly down the winding marble steps in hot pursuit of Sam who has already gotten a headstart and is bounding off into the crowds below. As much as I would absolutely love seeing Kyle have his ass handed to him by Sam, I would absolutely not love to see the repercussions he'd suffer from Father Duffy when Kyle squeals like a stuck hog.

The crowd shifts to make way for him as he stalks through, deathly glare narrowing his eyes.

"Sam!" I shout down to him, but he doesn't look back nor respond. He's got his eyes on the prize.

I grip the stair railing and use it with my momentum to swing around onto the landing to run after him. People are dancing, flailing their arms about, and making general assholes of themselves. I duck and swerve to avoid near-collisions with the flying limbs.

I slip and trip, my head still pounding and the sudden rush of adrenaline causing the room to start spinning again.

"Oh, fuck off." I mutter to myself, pushing between two kids making out and rushing to the opposite side of the room where I see Sam's lanky, tall frame over the crowd.

I could shout for him again, do something to get his attention, but the truth is I think he's so hell-bent on this now, there's nothing to be said nor done to redirect his path except for maybe getting in it.

By the time I break away from the crowd, it is of course too late; Sam's already got Kyle pinned against the wall with the neckline of his shirt wadded up in his fist.

"- Fuckers like you are the reason girls fear doing literally anything. They can't go anywhere, dress the way they want or even act like a normal fucking person because they live in constant fear that men like you exist!"

"Hey man, I don't know what you're-"

The first blow lands. Sam winds his fist back, bringing it hard across the bridge of his nose, causing Kyle to curse and scream.

"Sam!" I grab onto his arm as he brings it back again and he tries to shake me free, but I hang on for dear life. "Stop! Damn it, stop it!"

With a sharp jerk of his arm, he shakes me off and lands another punch across Kyle's jaw. I look up and in that moment I can see everyone's true colors... The friends that accompanied Kyle earlier are now keeping their distance from the scene, even as Kyle screams for their aid. Kyle's eyes are wide in cowardly fear as though he never expected his sins to catch up to him... And Sam, his punches are hard and precise... He's done this a few times before.

I launch myself at him again, trying every childish feat in the book to stop the boy that is double my height and strength. I wrap my arms around his ribs tightly and pull backward. His grip and concentration wavers, but he quickly scrambles to get back close and personal with Kyle.

I let go of him and try the last straw. I dart in front of him and plant myself there, scowling up at him as he prepares to land the next hit.

"SAM DAMMIT STOP." I shout at him, finally breaking him free of his trance.

"Missy! Did you forget what the hell he's done to you? That fucker needs his fucking pencil-neck snapped!" He scratches clawed fingers at him as he attempts to push past me again, to which I planted my hands on his chest and shoved him back again.

"That's not the point!" I hiss at him venomously, "I don't give a shit what you do to him, beat his ass into the ground if it makes you feel better. But I don't want to see you get kicked out of here because of it! Kyle is an ass-kisser, he'll see to it that a case it made against you. He doesn't let stuff go." I say breathlessly. "Just get out while you can. You got plenty of good hits in."

"Not nearly enough." He mutters, clenching his teeth and scowling at Kyle again.

"Let's go. Now. Before it gets any worse, okay?"

I grab his arm and gently guide him away. He puts up some resistance as I do, but I continue pulling him away until we are standing in the shadows of the stairwell, out of sight of everyone else.

I take him by surprise and hug him tightly. He awkwardly wraps his arms around my shoulders for the remainder of the embrace. "Thank you." I murmur, "I deeply appreciate what you did...But seriously, don't get yourself into trouble."

"Your decisions have consequences that affect more than just you. You've got that brother of yours to look out for, too."

I sigh and pull away from him, taking a step back to give him some space. His eyes are troubled.

"Hey, you got this." I remind him, punching his shoulder, causing him to shift his weight. He lifts his chin with more confidence than before.

"Well, if your work here is done, may I escort you back to your cell?" he holds his elbow out towards me. "Of course." I laugh, hooking my elbow through his and heading towards the stairs that go downstairs.

"In your state, asking you to climb out the window is a death sentence. The main exit is unlocked, anyway."

We pass by Kyle and his cowardly goons as we go and we lock eyes. I take this moment to stick my tongue out at him smugly, soaking up in all the empowerment I feel just now.

I mean... Holy shit? I'm walking arm in arm with Sam Morgan (half drugged, yes, but) and he stood up for me and beat the shit out of that fucker in my honor... Plus he's going out of his way to ensure I actually get back to my dorm safely.

I don't like admitting things to anyone, much less myself, and even less when it's super personal, intimate things that I have to admit to myself. I don't even want to think about what I'm feeling, but I know it's there and I just keep pushing it down because I'm fearful of pursuing it. I kinda... adore him.

The first floor is crowded, but somehow less so than the second story. We weave through the crowd, which cramps my style because it's so packed that I have to fall behind Sam in a single-file line until we get to the door.

My head is still caught up in a haze as he opens the door and peeks out, making sure that it's clear.

The sky is clear and full of stars for once. Normally all the fog that lingers low over the orphanage hides them all and the moon from view.

"You good?" He asks after we've made a decent bit of progress across the courtyard.

I nod, brow furrowed in deep thought. "Yeah."

I should feel more embarrassed about everything, but I really (and oddly) don't. It's been four days that I've known him and already he knows some of the most dark and twisted things about me, and I don't really mind. He saw me at my worst, and it somehow wasn't enough to cause him to back away and reconsider our friendship. Unlike many of the people that have come and gone through this place over the years, all the people drifting in and out of friendships with me, he hasn't left yet and I pray he never does.

He's very strange in his own way, and I suppose it's what I find to be most intriguing about him. He's odd and pretty out there like myself. The way which he speaks with such intricacy and care is fascinating to listen to.

"It's kinda chilly out, huh?" He comments, casting a glance up at the sky. I chuckle and slide off my knit cardigan and hand it to him.

"Oh, no, you don't have to do that."

"Seriously," I laugh, pushing it into his arms. "take it. I'm fine, really."

"How are you not cold?" He asks grudgingly as he puts it on reluctantly.

I shrug, "Honestly I think I'm pretty warm from all the liquid courage I put down. Didn't you drink anything?"

"Naw," He shakes his head, looking very dapper in the ultra-feminine-looking sweater on. "I only drink around people I trust... For the very reason, you experienced tonight, too many people spiking drinks and poisoning shit... Plus for a lot of people, they become very different people when in their intoxicated state. It's an experience best done in the company of close people."

I think about that for a moment. "What kind of drunk are you?" I wonder out loud.

"It depends on my mood and reason for drinking," he comments thoughtfully, "generally speaking, I'm a happy, celebratory drunk, but like anyone else I'm sure I have my moments."

Shit... Only seventeen years old and has already seen enough life to know the different stages of drunkenness and the pain that can accompany them.

"So... Your family. What kind of people were they?"

He purses his lips in thought for a few moments before speaking. "We were a happy bunch for a long time, the perfect family that you saw on advertisements for cereal and shit like that. Mom worked her whole life as a struggling historian with such outrageous theories many discredited her, and Dad had an easy-going day to day job driving truck. My Mom's depression hit a little after I turned fourteen, and it was a long and tiring struggle for a year and a half. Like I told you, Nathan became solely my responsibility and my Dad wasn't around much when Mom was on her deathbed. He only came back afterward to arrange the funeral and to pack us one bag of belongings each to take with us to the new apartment while he got the house ready for sale."

He shrugs a little like it's no big deal, but the moonlight illuminates his face just enough to betray him, showing off the show of emotions across his troubled face.

"You know what hurt the most about it?" He asks, his voice suddenly sharper. "He acted like nothing had happened, like he'd been there the whole time and Mom never even existed. He picked up and moved on without so much as a tear. He was always the businessman... The romantic, the loving one... But those two traits quickly died to the first and he started assessing everything as a profit to be made, not a memory to lose."

The crunch of loose gravel under our shoes accompanies his tale.

"He had us out of that house in under a week and never looked back. I'm not going to lie, that's when my worst habits picked up."

He takes a deep breath and sighs, allowing it to hang in the air for a moment before he puts on a smile and turns to me. "Tell me a happy story."

"A happy story?" I laugh awkwardly in surprise. "Like what?"

"I don't know... Just something that makes you smile looking back on."

I think hard about it for a moment, not wanting to disappoint with whatever generic warm-hearted story that comes to mind.

"Okay... Um, how about the time..." I take a deep breath, hoping it would help the dull spinning inside my skull. "Carly Amble got pushed into the fountain on one of the few trips we got outside the gates?"

He nods for me to proceed.

"It was September... And we were headed to the Saint Mary's Home on the other side of town. We took a couple buses for our trip, and when we arrived Carly got into a fight with one of her friends and she pushed her into the decorative pond outside. She smelled like algae and fish piss all day."

He smirks, but it doesn't reach his eyes. It's not until I try to dig deeper for a more amusing story that I realize that I really don't have any.

"I'm lame," I remind him, "I don't have good stories... At least not ones that don't involve exposing someone's secrets that they thought no one else knew..." I shrug.

"Okay hypocrite," he says jokingly, "tell me one of those."

"Anyone in particular that you'd like to know about?"

"Not gonna lie, I'm pretty curious about Father Duffy."

"I already told you the gist about him, though."

"I know... But he's the most prestigious dude in this place. He's easily got a walk-in closet full of skeletons waiting to tumble out."

"You're not wrong," I murmur with a slight shrug, looking ahead as our route winds to an end, blocked by a tall wrought iron gate, closed for the night. Now comes the climbing and I don't completely trust myself to handle that task effectively.

"In the many visits I've had to his office, I've found a number of interesting things..."

"Like what?"

I cast him a mischievous grin that glitters in the moonlight. "Secrets have a price, this one is free."

"Okay, proceed." He gestures his hands forward with enthusiasm, his undivided attention solely on my face, waiting for me to tell him all the juicy details about the great man.

"Okay, so on one of my visits like three or four months ago, I was looking for the documentation he'd written on a fight that had happened that morning. Being the nosy little shit I am, I went through everything looking for that document. At some point during my search, something caught my eye... A secret drawer concealed on the underside of his desk that one could only see if they crawled way under it deliberately to find it."

"What was in it?"

I quirk an eyebrow at him, not telling him right away. The suspense would make the story even better.

"I wondered that for myself... What on Earth would this secretive little cubby be doing under Father Duffy's desk?" I wonder out loud, going the extra mile to change my tone to be dramatic.

"So I open it, and there's not much in there, and it's kinda hard to actually look inside of because of how close it is to the actual desktop. So I'm reaching around in there, just feeling random scraps of paper... And then..."

"Then?" He presses, walking with his hands burrowed in the pockets of the cardigan.

"I touch something enclosed in foil. Use your imagination."

He thinks about it for a moment, and after several seconds I share the details. "I fish it out of there, right? I'm confused as to what on earth this little foil packet could be doing in there... At first I thought it would be some kind of recreational drug or something, but somehow it was worse."

He is so invested now.

"I mean, given his chosen occupation, having this little gem in a place like this? Absolutely sinful."

"What the Hell was it? Missy, you're keeping me in the dark here."

I grin slyly at him to build the tension, seeing the frustration spreading across his face.

"Our dear ol pal Father Duffy was harboring a condom in that secret drawer of his... A Magnum, too."

A long pause of silence settles then, and I look over at Sam. He's stopped walking and is just standing there in my cardigan with a few loose strands of brown hair framing his face... And he just has this look. His eyes are distant, mouth gaping open in sickened disbelief. He remains like this for a long moment before the string of very expressive expletives and choking laughter follows.

"Sweet Jesus, he had a what?!"

"Now which one of the Sisters is the lucky lady is the question..." I say, pursing my lips.

"What? You don't know who it was with?" He laughs, wiping his eyes free of gleeful tears.

"I don't... Just having handled his fun-time toy was enough for me. I chucked that fucker in there and bailed the fuck out. I never pursued it because honestly, I did not want to know." I shake my head, walking towards the cobblestone on either side of the gate to begin climbing.

"Maybe that should be our next adventure?" he calls out behind me as I move to step onto the uneven bricks, taking extra care to go slow not to fall off in my dizzy state.

"What's that?" I call back.

"Exposing Father Fucky." He cackles hysterically, "Just having that knowledge could get me to sleep soundly for the rest my life."

I roll my eyes, grinning although he can't see. We begin climbing up the wall, me falling behind due to my forced slowness. I move at a sloth's pace to ensure I don't fling myself off with some muscle spasm because heaven knows that would be my friggin luck.

"You good?" He calls down to me as I near the top. I risk a look behind me and see the ground twenty feet below and am once again reminded of my current handicapped state.

"Yeah." I murmur, eyes forward, climbing towards the goal as quickly as I can manage. When I get close enough, he extends a hand toward me which I take gratefully. Once he's hauled me over the edge onto the top, we stand up on the stone arch bent over the locked gate, and from there we can see a lot of the surrounding courtyards.

"This way." He walks across our makeshift bridge to where it connects to the rooftop of one of the lower classroom halls. I follow as swiftly as I can manage.

I feel pretty proud of myself once my dorm building comes into view. Aside from the occasional helping hand, I'd maneuvered the risky courtyard whilst being intoxicated and drugged. I puff my chest out proudly, standing atop one of the turrets that connects to the administrative building.

"Well, there's home." He gestures towards it. "Try not to die climbing down from here."

"I'll try." I mumble back, watching him climb down the side first. Once he's reached the roof, I begin to lower myself over and inch down lower. I can feel my swimming head working against me as I struggle to keep my grip firm on the brick ledges. I only lower myself about six inches before I feel myself slipping.

"Sam! I'm slipping!"

"I've got you!" He calls back from below, but that only makes me panic more. I have too many visuals of breaking his nose or something, or knocking us both off the roof somehow. For that reason, I hang on to the wall for dear life even though I feel my grip betraying me, preparing to drop me down below.

"No no nooo..." I mutter under my breath and readjust my grip, pressing myself flat against the stone until I am steady again. "Okay, I'm good!" I call back, using every bit of strength I have left to pin myself to the stone.

"Are you sure?" Sam shouts back uncertainly, and I myself doubt it.

"Yeah... Totally." I say with less enthusiasm, risking a peek at my surroundings to see how far from the ground I actually am.

I can't see him anywhere below me and it stresses me out even more. I could fall and fucking crush him. With my mind racing a million miles an hour through the drunken, dizzy haze, I attempt to make my first move towards getting to the ground. I dip my right foot down towards an uneven brick below that offers enough space to place some decent weight on.

"Are you okay?" He calls up to me when I am taking way too long to achieve the simple task of lowering myself.

"Peachy." I reply doubtfully as I gingerly begin to put weight on the stone. That proved to be a mistake as the sound of shifting stone and granules of sand falling accompanied the movement, and within a couple seconds the brick I was using as a safe-haven shifts away and I lose my footing.

I didn't even have the chance to attempt to cling to the face of the stone again as I went shooting towards as gravity took hold.

I free-fall through the air for a second, the world around me rapidly slipping by as I grow closer to the hard concrete below. I squeeze my eyes shut and accept that there is nothing I can do to save myself.

Then I'm jostled awake again when I hit something, only it's not what I'm expecting. It's the soft, stumbling grip that catches me before I collide with the harsh concrete surface of the roof below the clock tour.

"Damn, you're heavier than you look." Sam grunts as he struggles with my weight before slowly setting me down on my feet. "They always make it look way more heroic in the movies... Damn I think I pulled something." He groans, rubbing his neck and stretching it out.

I really don't know what to say now. I'm just standing there in dead silence, staring him down, words evading me. Do I laugh and joke with him? Do I smile kindly and thank him? Do I apologize for his injuries and say he should not have bothered? I'm at a loss...

He straightens his back and faces me, and for that frozen bit of time we stand facing each other, silence all around and the gloomy purple fog is already settling into every crack and crevice on the property, giving an eery glow to every dark corridor and alleyway.

His eyes are fixed on my face patiently as he waits for me to say something, to perhaps prove my sanity, but I can't.

My mind is trying to navigate the mist left behind by the drugs and alcohol, struggling to put together a cohesive sentence that fits the scene. But soon enough I decide that actions speak louder than words and cross that small space between us, throw my arms around his neck, and go to plant a kiss on his lips.

"Whoa, whoa whoa..." He twists out of my grip before I can even get my face within six-inches of his. "You're intoxicated," he explains calmly and kindly as he removes my arms and steps back from me. "and I don't want you to have any morning regrets... Y'know?"

I stand back and bury my hands in my pockets, watching him peel off the cardigan I loaned him earlier and hand it back to me. I accept it with stiff hands and press it to my chest, avoiding his eyes completely. I stand there shame-faced and guilt-ridden for as many moments as he allows to pass before speaking again, not to offer consolation but to deliver the finishing blow.

"And I'm sorry if I gave you the wrong impression about things... About us... I should have made it clear at the start of my intentions, I'm sorry. Not that saying this makes things any better but I actually already have a girlfriend."

I allow my eyes to flicker to his for the briefest second. His dark eyes are trying to be kind and his twitching upper lip is struggling not to say something too cruel. I cast my gaze elsewhere, allowing myself to completely soak up in the feeling of rejection, allowing to fully and truly hurt me in the moment.

"I know I've made this more awkward than it needs to be," He sighs, running a hand through his tousled locks. "and I don't want to make it worse. I should go..."

"They always say that." I murmur sadly, the heart-brokeness coming through in my voice a bit stronger than I would have liked. "They always have to leave, and escape the awkwardness they've created... That I created."

He is quiet for a moment before responding with a firmer tone that lacks the same level of empathy as before. "I've got to check on Nathan and get Fran back to her cell... I'll see you tomorrow."

"No, you won't." I murmur to myself as he walks past me to leave. I grind my teeth together and don't look back at him as he leaves. I stand there alone for a few minutes before deciding I am sober enough to get back across the decorative stone ledge to my room on my own.

I was foolish to believe he was any different than the other boys here. The only difference was the amount of attention he gave me that made me believe he actually liked me, when it was really nothing more than point-blank kindness he was offering.

Embarrassment is setting in and I'm rewinding the scene in my head over and over, but it doesn't look or sound any better. I threw myself at him like a desperate whore and made myself look that way without even realizing it. And now I've gone and offended the both of us and have most likely destroyed any form of budding relationship that may have been in the process.

Nonetheless, for tonight, I am done.


	9. The Great Escape

Hazy morning sunlight woke me well-before I even needed to wake up. I lay there on my back staring at the ceiling, searching for designs in the stucco and paint. In the hall outside the bedroom door, I can hear frantic chatter and it grabs my attention for a bit. Their words are muffled, but after a few minutes of eavesdropping I pick out a couple keywords that cause me to grow concerned.

Of course, though, I can't be too certain of them, and I immediately place myself behind a wall of denial to keep me from thinking about or accepting the possibility of their words.

"Two sets of runaways in one night."

Who? Could it be?... Not that it matters now if it was Fran who picked up and ran sometime during the night, at this point she's too far away for me to even hope to be mad she didn't give an official goodbye or even leave behind some contact information. In the few hours that have followed the fated party at the storage building, so many things had changed and broken. Too many things for me to willingly drag myself out of this bed to face them.

As I lied down last night after getting back to my dorm, the first girl to arrive back, I could just sense that it was the last time I'd see my friend. Still, I didn't allow myself to let that thought come to full fruition and therefore it didn't exist because I didn't accept it. But realistically, that's not how things work. Sometime in the night, Fran had possibly disappeared into the dark without another word or trace... And when I officially rise and receive the news from the Sisters, I'll have to pretend to be shocked and surprised by her decision to split. I can only pray that she convinced Liam to go with her. Her out there alone and distraught is just asking for trouble.

Still, there is the tiny chance that it's not her... Somebody else perhaps. But just thinking of the things she said the night I and Sam broke in to her room to see her, her plans are too defined for her not to execute them as soon as possible. And given the circumstances, I suppose I can't blame her for bailing out.

With me royally fucking over my relationship with Sam, I'd gladly run blindly into the world beyond these wrought-iron gates just so I never have to face him again.

I groan and roll onto my side, squeezing my eyes shut, basking in the silence given to me by the early morning hour. There is the quiet sounds of breathing all around me coming from the bodies blissfully unaware of Fran's abandonment.

Furtherstill, with her gone what will become of me? These bullies only left me alone because sweet, loving, maternal Fran had stepped in and made them leave me alone. With her gone now I am left to my own devices and defense mechanisms.

I squeeze my eyes shut in an effort to ward off the invading images from last night. My awkwardness mixed with my inexperience at being a good socialite managed to pool together into a concoction that proved to be just the recipe for disaster and ending a decent relationship promptly.

I roll onto my stomach so I can effectively bury my face in my pillow. It's not enough however to hide all my guilt and shame from a reckless evening that would have been better spent poring over my maps alone on my bed or exploring the southern gardens on the estate.

Soon enough, the alarm clock begins to blare, followed by Sister Amelia entering the room to wish us all a good morning as she yanks open the curtains covering the western windows facing the sunrise. As she frees the bright beams in the room, a chorus of tired groans can be heard. Hungover faces peek up from their bedding as they make an effort to figure out where the hell they are and how they got there.

I sit up and place my face in my hands for several seconds, just taking in slow, even breaths to cover the immediate increase in my heart rate. I'm dreading today... Nothing good can come from it aside from me having to own up to my mistakes and accepting that Fran and Liam are most likely gone and far from here... Assuming the cops don't catch them first and drag them back.

"Oh, don't look so tired." Sister Amelia smiles at us all, completely oblivious to the horrendous night of drinking and drugs we all indulged in. "There is a great day from God ahead."

Groans all around followed as the other girls collapse into their bedding. Sister Amelia leaves the room shortly after, leaving us to lull around in our beds.

"I have so many regrets..." Lena mumbles, rubbing her temples. Lena must've gone full dark after me and Sam left. Her bloodshot eyes give it all away.

I'm busy combing my fingers through the tangled plaits in my hair, trying to get the braid out so I can redo it in a neater fashion, when the bedroom door opens and three sisters are standing there. Their eyes scan the room before settling on myself and Lena.

"Those two." I hear Sister Sarah say quietly to Sister Catherine and Sister Eunice. 

"Leanna Astor, Michelle Darabont, a word please." 

Me and Lena exchange questioning, confused looks as we get up from our beds and go quietly to the door while the other girls start doing their hooting and hollering; the kind of mocking noises teens make when someone is in trouble. Sister Catherine promptly hushes them and warns them to get ready before they are assigned tile cleaning duty in the grand hall.

Normally, seeing those girls get reprimanded would be enough to keep my spirits light all day, but on a morning like today, shitty as it's been so far, nothing can break through the tangle of stressed thoughts in my head or deter the swirling, nervous sickness in my gut. Something is wrong.

The bedroom door closes behind us and we stand with the three sisters in the hall. They waste no time with sugar coated delivery and go straight into it. 

"I'm not going to waste time with the specifics," Sister Catherine begins. Her soft, authoritative tone foreshadowing the unsettling news to follow. "but your friend, Francine Moody has escaped and has run away from the home. Authorities have been notified and dispatched to search for her, but they've not had any luck yet. With you two being her closest allies, we need you to think. Did Francine ever mention where she might go if she had the chance?"

Their burning stares pierced me as I peer over at Lena to see her expression. Either Fran hadn't told her anything, or she is amazing at managing her facial expressions. Her face is just confused and worried. With her not giving anything up, their eagle-eyed stare swiftly shifts to me. "Miss Darabont?"

I look them each dead in the eyes as Fran's words repeated in my head. I'm getting out of here... I don't know when, but I have to. I'm going to Oregon, my mother had family up there. 

After mulling it over a bit, I purse my lips and shake my head. "No, no she never mentioned anything distinct. Fran was pretty vague in that regard."

Sister Catherine's eyes continue to burn into mine before she blinks and straightens up, taking a deep breath. "So it seems." She agrees, not looking completely sold on my excuse. She turns towards the others at her side and murmurs something to them, not quite low enough for me not to hear or pick up on.

"Four runaways in one night? Are we sure they're not related?" 

"Wait, who else is gone?" I inquire before I can stop myself, unable to imagine who else would so eagerly bail out on this place. Too many of the kids here are fearful of what lies beyond the wrought iron gates to willingly leave. 

Sister Catherine's gaze falls back upon me while she silently thinks over whether or not to share with me. 

"Three others also escaped last night... But we have no record of either of you girls knowing them."

"Who?" Lena inquires.

"Samuel and Nathan Morgan, and Liam - Oh, Liam was the boy we were having trouble with, wasn't he? No wonder those two split out together... Anyway, please come to us if you think of anything else, okay?"

We both nod, feeling judged under their gaze until they turned to leave, walking off with purpose in their step to go explore their latest lead. I turn halfway toward Lena.

"...They're all gone?" Is all I can muster or even think to say. It's ridiculous for my heart to seize up so suddenly just hearing that Sam had left.

"Oh shit this is my fault..." I mumble under my breath, hanging my head and groaning into the palms of my hands. 

"What do you mean? You mean Fran and Liam?"

I shake my head, feeling myself becoming red faced just thinking about the previous night's events where I ruined everything because I didn't think through my actions first. Sam made it pretty clear that he did not return my feelings, and was so bothered by it that he promptly grabbed his brother and made a run for it. 

"Oh damn, I wish that was the only thing I destroyed last night." I groan, rubbing my face while sighing, lifting my head only to give Lena a look that told her everything. Within seconds, her confused face grew shocked.

"Oh... Oh... OH." As the realization set on her, her expression shifted three times as the stages of understanding passed, until she came to the realization that I had: I'd fucked it up somehow or another. 

"Yep." I sigh, running a hand through my hair, "Anyway, I'm pretty sure I sank that boat last night... Hell, I didn't only sink it, I hit multiple icebergs, shot everyone aboard, lit the boat on fire and went down singing Highway to Hell. I royally fucked up whatever budding little friendship we may have had." 

She winces, "What did you do?"

"After we left he escorted me back here... We shared some endearing, personal tales, and for some reason my stupid intoxicated brain thought that it was a fine time to try and kiss him. I was promptly rejected and informed of him having an existing girlfriend out there, and not returning my feelings."

"What did he say?"

"Something along the lines of 'I'm sorry if I ever gave you the wrong idea'." I mumble, headed slowly towards the dorm's shared bathroom. "Anyway, with any luck the authorities don't catch them and I'll never have to face my mistakes."

I conceal and lock myself away inside the bathroom before any more words can be exchanged, trying my damndest to come off and nonchalant and unbothered by it all... But the reality of it is, that as I press my palms against the cold porcelain of the sink and look up at my frazzled face in the mirror - I do care... A lot... More than I probably should and I'm disappointed with how bothered I am by it. 

I blink once, and become aware of my surroundings. The bathroom is not the quietly dramatic place I perceived it as when I drifted in. There are showers running in the background, girls gossiping while brushing through their wet hair, and three girls running around shrieking at each other whilst clutching towels around themselves, narrowly avoiding colliding into walls or slipping in the many puddles decorating the tile floor. 

I look into my wild eyes and huff a deep breath, turning on the faucet to splash water in my face, wondering idly in the back of my mind if I could manage to drown myself with the few droplets going up my nose, and then feeling disappointed because it probably wouldn't work and I'd still have to face everything.

Another promise broken, another protector gone. Without Fran or Sam here to watch my back, I am exposed once again to the attacks of the vicious, bloodthirsty girls in my dorm.

I peek around myself just in case, suddenly wary of someone attacking me from the shadows. Luckily, no one seems to be paying me any mind as they're busy chatting about the party last night animatedly. Albeit there were probably better ways for us all to assert our place as a teenager, but I think it was good for us all to have this outing. It can't be all endless studies and perfection forever.

I push the fallen strands of hair back off my face, tucking them behind my ears and rearranging them into the plaits of my braid, all while looking myself in the eye trying to find the will to drag myself out of this bathroom to face the day ahead. Just thinking about the unknown made my stomach churn nervously. 

When I could stall no more, I push away from the edge of the sink and head back out into the hall. As the girls in the other dorms start to stir, the halls have become alive with chatter and activity similar to that of the bathroom. For every shrill shriek and scream, there is a scolding Sister to accompany it, threatening to split knuckles with a ruler. 

My head is absent as I make my way down the busy staircase to the main hall. It feels like a seperate piece from my body, unable to grasp or understand the extent of the suffering of my heart. 

As I set foot into the cafeteria, I couldn't stop myself for scanning the usual crowd for the quiet brothers. Despite my efforts, they, and Fran, were nowhere to be seen. I knew she wanted to leave, but I didn't expect it to come so soon... And as for the brothers, why would they leave? Really, they had everything they needed here despite them disliking it. All I can do is blame myself for the awkwardness that ensued. 

The guilt, shame, and embarrassment wracks my brain and makes me want to slam my face into the decorative stone pillars decorating the room... Anything to avoid having to see him again or deal with this.

I look around, swallowing hard and straightening my skirt to look too distracted to care about the happenings around me. I do wonder though, how many others are aware of the drop in population?

A glance around the room at all the hazy-faced kids confirmed a strong no - they're all too busy nursing headaches and trying to look like everything is hunky dory to not draw suspicion. Regardless of their efforts, all it'll take is one kid to slip up or for the Sisters to become suspicious and they'll all go down together like Dominos. 

Although my involvement in the party had been minimal, it had been enough... I wasn't exactly being discreet, either... Not with getting drugged, almost passing out, breaking up a fight that drew in lots of unwanted attention, plus everyone seeing me stumbling off with the strange Morgan boy. Yep, my future is just as tied into the mess as theirs is... Nonetheless, it is extremely unlikely for us to end up getting away with it. 

Lena caught up to be at the end of the line, and we isolated ourselves at our usual three-man table. There wasn't a lot to be said between us when we both locked eyes on that empty seat beside her and across from me.

"What did she tell you?" Lena finally asks quietly under her breath while prodding at the discolored scrambled eggs on her place, her left hand pushed up against her cheek to hold her head up while she thought things over. "At the party, she didn't have much to say except that she was leaving... She didn't even say she'd be leaving last night. I was getting ready to head back when things started winding down, and that's when I noticed her absence, though I assumed that she and Liam had just wandered off together, so I paid it no nevermind. I really wish I had inquired more."

My brow pinches in deep thought. "What time would you say was the last time you saw Fran?"

She thinks about it for a moment before responding. "Probably about 3:30-4:00 when I noticed she was gone, why?"

"Because it was Sam's job to escort her back to her isolation room." I explain while giving her a look that tells her everything she needs to know. "I don't know what went down, but one of them must've said something to the other to warrant them all leaving in a group like that... Plus Sam putting his brother in danger like that. He's not dumb, he wouldn't take Nathan away from a safe place like this for no reason."

I shake my head, still trying to make sense of it. Lena thinks hard about it for a bit before resorting to following my example with a frown. "I don't know... Maybe Sam saw how desperate Fran was to leave and helped her break out, who knows? Maybe he took his brother with him in case he got booted or something, he wouldn't have to worry about losing contact with him. Either way, it's all very strange..."

I nod in agreement, opting to stay quiet for the time being. The guilt on my mind is making it impossible to think about anything else. After a long moment of silence, I sigh and look up again. "Well, wherever they are and wherever they end up, I can only hope that they're all safe, happy, and together..."

Lena nods in thoughtful agreement. "Do you think they'd go with Fran and Liam? To Oregon?"

I shrug, furrowing my brow in thought while I contemplate the visual image of the Morgan brothers traveling in the orphanage caravan to the west coast... In my mind, they seem very out of place in that scenario. 

"I don't know..." I admit with a shrug, "I mean, I hardly know them well enough to comment on what I think they would and would not do. But from what I gathered from Sam, he would want to stay close to home... To some degree. His Mother is dead and his Father surrendered them to the state; there's no one around here to be supportive of them. I don't know."

The conversation did not develop much beyond that and the awkward silence that followed. I knew I should have said something comforting or motivating and Fran and Lena were inseparable and losing her was like losing a sibling... But I just didn't know what to say. 

Soon enough we were going our separate ways to attend our individual studies. I walked with my head high, the faces around me a blur. The ones whose eyes I did meet were tired and worn - definitely not in any kind of headspace to be judging me or remembering anything I had done last night. Still, it all left me with a strange feeling of paranoia. 

I got to history and sat down, getting my books out of my desk and setting them out in front of me, sighing as contently as I can manage knowing that my first class is luckily one of my favorites. All that comfortable bliss came to a shattering halt when Sister Sarah took a moment to announce before the classroom the departure of four residents.

"It pains me to tell you all that last night we lose four of our students. Francine Moody, Liam Brandon, and Samuel and Nathan Morgan... Two of our newest additions to the home. We don't know much about their whereabouts at the moment, so if you have any information about where they may have gone, please direct your concerns towards Father Duffy. Until their safe return, we will be praying for their safety and level-headedness during this time."

Of course this was all news to everyone else. The classroom exploded into a unison chorus of chatter and theories regarding their departure, but no one dared mention that fated party last night knowing that their hides were just as much entwined in that trap as those of the Morgan boys and Fran. 

Class went on easily and slowly otherwise... I had trouble concentrating on the task at hand, but that was to be expected considering the circumstances. More often than not I caught myself looking out the window beside my desk at the trees putting on their spring blossoms and the flowers rising out of the dark soil. 

Luckily for me, I was never called on to answer a question or to provide context to the excerpts Sister Sarah was reading about a Latin ship. I was left blissfully alone in the corner to stew in my thoughts of guilt and regret. There is a tiny part of me that believes if I hadn't been so hasty in my race of pining after Sam, he wouldn't have felt so awkward and in need of getting away from this place the same hour...

Which does nothing to boost my confidence, am I really that undesirable that he felt so repulsed me the thought of me and him together that he felt the only way of ridding himself of the disgust was to expunge himself from-

"Missy?"

My eyes shoot up to lock with those of Sister Sarah, staring at me expectantly. 

"Yes?"

"Do you know the answer?"

Shit. 

"I'm sorry, can you repeat it?"

She looks a bit perturbed having to repeat herself, but carries on anyway. "The trivia question about sailing today is: In 1910, White Star Line developed a trio of luxury liners set to set sail in 1912. The project was led by chairman Bruce Ismay, while the ships themselves were constructed in Belfast, Ireland by Thomas Andrews. Of he two main ships in the set, only one actually set sail, but never reached its destination. Name the ship."

"Oh..." I murmur, my mind deciding to tuck the information away deep inside my skull to make a fool of me. 

"Titanic, Missy." Sister Sarah reminds me, a hint of teasing mockery in her voice causing the other students to have a laugh along with her. I heave a sigh, annoyed with myself for not being able to recognize not only my favorite ship story of all time, but also the most famous one. 

My other studies went by in about the same fashion, and soon enough we had concluded break, supper, reflection time, and had all returned to our respective dormitories for the evening. I dressed in my nightgown at a sluggish pace, clumsy hands unable to tie knots, leaving the ribbons loose and withered instead while I chose to go stand by the locked window and peer out into the night.

Each night the courtyard looks the same, like it's just a photograph or projection until morning. The purplish-blue haze that settles down over the massive estate with the fog gives it the eerie aura of an old, haunted castle. Where the moon hits the exposed sides of buildings, it bleaches their stone a pale grey. Tonight is clear-skied and bright out... Perfect for exploration, not so great for trying to not get caught by security. 

When there is nothing left to be seen, and I don't see the flashing blue and red lights of police cruisers pulling into the courtyard below to return four kids to the home, I climb into bed feeling a bit disgruntled and disappointed.

I look at the empty bed directly across he room from mine - the blankets perfectly smooth and the pillow fluffed and leaning nicely against the headboard. It's seeing her empty bed tonight and knowing that she won't be returning to sleep in it that breaks my heart. I lie down, facing away from everyone towards the wall, so that whatever silent tears fall free are mine, and mine alone. 

~~~

The following morning was much like the first - except this time I didn't get to wake up to blissful unawareness. I woke up to an ache in my head and a pang in my soul, and the crushing reality that I would probably not see Fran again for a very long time, if at all. I don't know the specifics of her future, and I don't know if I will be able to find her even if I wanted to. 

The day carried out in much the same fashion as yesterday had. Lena's mood had dropped considerably and it's not hard to see why. She moped around the dorm as she made her bed and spent way too much time straightening and dusting her meager possessions on the small shelf above her bed. I tried approaching her but was promptly told before I could get a word out that she needed some time to herself to think about things.

I respected her privacy and backed off, but not without feeling a pang of sadness as we two are all each other has, an I crave the comfort of being consoled just as much as she does. That is one of the hard things about pain: it disguises itself and can create enemies... Pain is selfish.

I had to keep that in mind through breakfast when Lena went out of her way to sit at an isolated table in the corner with one chair that faced the wall. I could take a hint.

Also like yesterday, maneuvering the halls just to get to history demanded some level of forced confidence. Today minds weren't clouded with hangovers or post-party depression. Everyone was wide awake and eager to see the flaws in my armor. That brought on more paranoia, giving me the sense that every fleeting glance in my direction was a judging stare reminding me of what I'd done, and what one of my last memories of Fran would be... Me pretty much telling her off and walking off the roof of the dormitories. Yep, fantastic friend right here.

Because of the paranoia, when I'd finally sat down at my desk in History, I couldn't help but pick up on a note of hostility in the room. I tell myself to ignore it and lock my eyes on the textbook in front of me. I read the text over and over, trying my damnedest to concentrate on the words, but no matter my efforts, I can't make sense of them... Not with this strange feeling picking away at me. Discreetly, I lift my head and tuck some hair behind my right ear, using the brief moment of coverage from my hand to cast a look down the aisle of desks to my right. All of the students there have their eyes down on their work, scribbling away to the hum of Sister Sarah's lecture. Frowning, I look down again while mentally scolding myself for getting all worked up.

"-They sailed to Wales in 1812. When they departed from England, there were two hundred and fourteen passengers in their fleet. When it arrived at the shore of Cairnholm one year later, there were only thirteen living passengers - that's what gave the ship the fated name Thirteen."

I've heard this tale plenty of times and it fascinated me just as much as the other famous sailing stories I've read and heard. Despite my love for it, I can't make myself focus on it. Agitated, I risk another glance, this time I peek over my shoulder at the three rows behind me.

My eyes flit across the students caught up in their work, and this almost put me at ease enough to put down my guard when my gaze skipped across a less friendly face looking in my direction. I swallow hard, feeling a chill run up my spine when I lock eyes with Brenda - the girl from my dorm with a fetish for breaking my bones.

Her brown eyes are locked on mine, her jaw set firm, but her lips are curled up slightly in satisfaction as though she is anticipating something. I can only wonder what that might be and what it has to do with me. I swiftly drop my gaze and return to my work with a heavily beating heart. I can come off as a badass as much as possible, but the truth is that I'm a scrawny, peace-craving kid who really doesn't want her nose broken for the seventh time. I can't throw a punch to save my life and have no means to fight back. That bit with Kyle last night was purely instinctual, and while it felt like I was the coolest person at that party after it happened, the reality of it is that I was just using words and actions to cover up how scared shitless I was.

I tighten my fingers into fists on my desk to keep them from shaking. I watch my knuckles turn white, curled around my pencil tightly. With a shallow breath, I relax my fingers and try to act natural. 

The lesson, much as I wanted it to drag out so I wouldn't have to leave the comfort of being in a public space with an adult present, ended too soon. I took my time getting out of my seat and gathering my things, trying really hard not to pay Brenda too much mind. I glanced back to check on her, and sure enough, she is lingering by the classroom door conversing with one of her friends; a girl by the name of Ally who in the past had also gotten in her fair share of kicks to my ribs. 

Their eyes settle on me once more, followed by sinister smiles that make my blood run cold. Shit shit shit, this is not good... On top of all the crap already going on today, I now have to worry about getting the crap kicked out of me. Fun.

When I cannot stall anymore, I make my way towards the one exit they are partially blocking. I glance over to Sister Sarah who is busying herself with cleaning off the chalkboard with her back to the rest of the room. I don't even have the option of locking eyes to tell her something is wrong... It's just me now and I pray that I'll have the strength to hold my own if things go bad.

I can feel their gazes ghosting after me as I squeeze past them through the door, hearing Brenda laugh a quiet, humorless chuckle under her breath. 

Once out, I pick up a brisk walk. Because I stalled so much, the halls are now empty once more with no one around to be my witness. Despite my efforts to seem calm and determined, it seems that they sniffed out my discomfort because shortly after the pair of them were at my side.

"Hey Missy."

My eyes flicker over at Ally, trying to figure out why the hell this she-demon is talking to me like we're old friends. 

"Hi." I reply shortly, continuing at my steady sped up pace. They kept up easily, still trying to fuel a conversation.

"We wanted to talk with you, actually..." Brenda says when they realize I won't be stopping for friendly chatter. 

"About what?"

"Can we stop?"

I am faced with a dilemma: if I don't stop walking, they'll know for sure that I'm trying to avoid them and am fearful of them... If I do stop, it gives them just the opportunity they're looking for to carry out the act. I'm having a hard time navigating my paranoid, anxious mind for an answer that makes sense. 

It takes a lot to will my muscles to seize movement. I stop walking and pause, ready to sprint if things go bad. I conceal my posture through a chill, nonchalant lean. "What?"

Brenda glances to Ally and back to me, sympathy in her eyes. "We wanted to say that we're sorry about Fran leaving... I know you were really close to her, and it can't be easy."

My eyes flicker between them before I give them the satisfaction of receiving a fraction of a nod from me. "Yeah."

"But that's not all..." Brenda looks nervous now, oddly enough. This piques my curiosity. 

"We needed to tell you something about last night... Something we both saw, we think it is related to her leaving. We weren't sure if you were looking for answers, though... Do you know where she went and why?"

I almost said yes right away, but my better angels picked at me and I stop myself, deciding to instead dodge the question by proposing a skillfully placed one. "Why are you trying to tell me this stuff? It's not like either of you even liked her."

"But we like you." Brenda quickly defends with a convincing smile. "We just want to make sure that you're okay."

"You got a strange way of showing it, you know that? I don't know of anyone who beats the crap out of someone over and over as a means of saying that they want to be friends."

Brenda's smile does not falter as she says. "Well, I was hoping to put that all behind us. I think we could all be really good friends, you know?"

I am wary as I bite on my lower lip. I risk a look at m surroundings, seeing that the hall is vacant beside us three.

"No offense, but I really don't need any new friends..." I say, taking a step back. "It's nice of you to check in on me, but I'm okay, really..."

"Missy, come on! We're really trying to make a genuine effort here." She sighs, and despite what I want to believe, she does seem pretty convincing. 

"And anyway, we do have more details on why she and the others left. She gave me a letter to give the girls in our dorm." Ally says.

"Then why didn't she just give it to me or Lena?"

"Because you had already left by that point and she couldn't find Lena. I couldn't bring it back to the dorms with me last night because the Sisters might've found it, so I stowed it away in the science lab."

I look down the long hall to the closed door of the science lab. The small window cut from the door revealed total darkness on the other side. I have lots of questions and alerts popping up in my head, warning me that their story has many flaws. 

"Well, I actually have somewhere I need to be right now. Can you just tell me the gist of it?"

Ally looks around us cautiously "Not here in the hall, you never now who might be listening in."

I narrow my eyes, but nod. "Right... Okay so why don't you just tell me about it tonight when we're all back in the dorm?"

"Missy, this will literally take less than five minutes for you just to come read the thing for yourself." Brenda sighs, perching her hands on her hips, eyes tired. "It's important."

Me, still not sold on exactly how important this all is, and unconvinced that Fran would leave an important letter like that in the hands of her enemies, I decide to stand my ground. 

"No." I reply shortly, "If it is so urgent that it demands me to see it right now, one of you can go get it. I've learned my lesson in the past, I am not following you two anywhere alone." With a hard, knowing look at the two of them, I turn and keep moving.

"Missy, wait!" Brenda calls out to me. "I can prove it's real - she referred to you as 'kid' in the letter... And I'd be willing to bet that that's not a well-known fact about your relationship, right?"

My steps falter and I come to a pause a few feet away. Grinding my teeth and frowning, I sigh and finally turn to face them again. "Are you being serious? No games? No bullshit?"

They both hold up their hand, palms towards me as they say together "Promise. Scouts honor."

"Whatever that means." I mumble under my breath before speaking up again. "Okay... So it's just down the hall there?"

Brenda nods. "Yeah... If you don't trust us, that's a perfectly fine reaction. We can just tell you where it is and you can go see it for yourself. Sound good?"

I try my hardest to read them, to find the hole in their disguise that would hint at a darker, ore sinister underlying plan... But it worries me when I can't distinguish anything really wrong wih either one... From what I can tell, they are genuinely trying to be decent people right now, and that lone thought provides me with the slightest bit of comfort as I hope the times of peace and prosperity are ahead of us now. Still, I can't shake the fear of trauma's past warning me that something is amiss and I should not turn my back on them for too long. I set my jaw firmly and fight back and forth with the angels on my shoulder for a long moment before finally nodding in agreement.

"Yeah... Okay. Where do I find it?"

"There's a small supply closet at the back of the classroom. Go in there and look on the shelf behind the door, the letter is wedged between two white binders. It's written on a piece of green stationery."

I nod slowly, thinking over their directions, careful to memorize them. "Alright. Thanks."

"No problem, hey, we'll see you around."

The pair carry on walking past me, immediately launching into a new and unrelated conversation. I shift my weight from foot to foot nervously, still trying to decide if I actually should go pursuing this potentially fruitless venture. Doing so right now on top of the five minutes I'd lost talking to the murder twins would bring me into my next study about ten minutes late.

A moment later the only sound that accompanies me is the sound of my own footsteps down the hall. They echo back to me, bouncing off the high, ornately carved ceiling above me. Even with Brenda and Ally gone, I am cautious of my surroundings, careful not to get too comfortable in my loneliness. 

I peek through the window into the classroom. It's dimly lit from the windows with blinds drawn. I look into the shadows, and make sure that no one else is inside before trying the door handle. It opens with a quiet click and swings open. 

I step in, listening to the hum of the vents of my head for a moment, pausing to confirm that I am completely alone, then I shut the door behind myself and venture in further. As promised, there is a storage closet at the back of the classroom with the door left slightly open. I grit my teeth anxiously, trying to make sense of what I am doing before I get too caught up in it. Why on Earth would Fran give this sacred last note to the people we both despise?

I can't figure it out. Nonetheless, I make my way towards the back of the room, careful to keep my footfalls light and my movements silent. 

I push the storage door open a bit wider and it allows a triangle of dim light to seep into the room. I can see the mentioned shelves just behind the door, each rack filled up with binders and unused textbooks. I graze my fingers across the door as I step towards it, looking over them for a distinct pattern of two white binders side by side.

There, on the third shelf down I see the only twin white ones in sight. I crouch down to their level and pull them apart, fighting the weight of the other books on either side. To my surprise, the low light illuminates a small slip of mint green paper wedged between the books. I fish it out, careful not to knock anything off the shelf in the process, since after all, I'm not supposed to be in here. 

I straighten my back a bit, remaining crouched while I eagerly unfold the piece of stationary. I flatten the page and prepare to read the text, but am instead shocked and confused to read the three words written on the first line in nice, crisp cursive text.

Run, rabbit, run. 

Before I can make sense of the message, I hear laughter and my head snaps up to see Kyle, Brenda, and Ally leaning in the doorway of the storage closet - gone are their kind, concerned smiles, replaced by those familiar, menacing stares.

"Well, look here." Kyle speaks first with pride in his voice and he looks down at me like a wounded animal caught in a snare. "Looks like you ain't got a friend in the world these days... I mean, what kind of friends leave all the same night?"

"And what kind of protector leaves their lamb behind?" Ally chimes in.

"It just proves what we always thought... They were all talk, no action." Brenda says with a satisfied sigh. "It's easy to say that you're going to kick someone's ass and then never actually have to. None of them had it in them to stay... Not really. Not if they left you so easily..."

"Tell me Missy... What is it about you that is so undesirable?" Kyle leers, leaning in further through the doorframe, his big, blocky shoulders blocking out the sunlight, casting dark shadows all around me. 

"Maybe this time you'll finally step up and live, or fall down and die... Either way, I don't really care." Brenda says with a shrug, no mercy to be seen in her eyes. "I am out for blood."

I shift backward, reaching behind myself, fingers fumbling in the dark for anything that I can use to defend myself... My heart sinks when I realize that there is nothing. Their faces are growing bored and there is only so much stalling I can do to evade the inevitable. 

They step closer and I cower back. There is not a damn thing that I can do to save myself now. 

"Why?" Is all I get out, and even that lone word is shrill and fearful. "Why me? Why am I your target?"

I don't get an answer, I just get Kyle reaching out to grab me and I scramble to my feet, grabbing at the shelves to rip them down between us. It takes some brute force to et it moving, but soon enough the thing begins to topple, forcing them to step back. Stacks of books and paper go flying, but it's not enough to camouflage my escape, I have only succeeded at cornering myself.

Kyle rips the spent bookshelf out of the way and comes toward me slowly and dauntingly, that familiar darkness in his eyes. The familiar crunch of my own bones comes all too quickly. 

There's a voice in the back of my head, commanding me to lie down and play dead. This voice feels commanding and authoritative. I don't know why, but in this moment I have no choice but to trust it. If I hadn't willingly dropped myself to the floor right then, they would have done it for me.

I can feel their shoes driving into my ribs over and over again, the sound of dull, hard thumps mixed with their strange, sadistic laughter. 

I lie down on my back and wince at the hits, squeeze my eyes shut and pray them away. 

It seems that my prayers are answered because the classroom door swung open and Father Duffy and Sister Catherine come barrelling in to break up the fight.

Still, having been spared, I can't seem to pull myself out of this zoned out state. Sister Catherine is helping me up and inspecting me, but I feel so calm... It's a strange feeling that my body recognizes as being wrong for the moment, but I can't quite summon the right reaction.

"Are you okay, dear?"

I nod, making an effort of straightening my shirt. "Peachy." 

I look up and lean on her, watching Father Duffy scolding the trio and sending them up to his office. As what I can only assume is adrenaline wears off, I am left with the many achy patches adorning the skin of my abdomen, ribs, and shoulders. Sister Catherine is hysterical, going on a rant about how things like this shouldn't happen, and I couldn't agree more. I wince as she helps me out of the classroom, checking frequently that I can walk and will be able to make it to the nurse's office by administration.

To answer her question, I have to stop and lean against the wall to catch my beath. "Yeah, I'm fine..." I breath, more so to convince myself than her. "I can make it there."

"I will escort you and make sure that everything is sorted for you, okay dear?" I nod, gratefully accepting her offer of support when she extends her arm towards me. 

We move down the hallways a a decent speed, in no real hurry to get anywhere too quick. She takes this moment to ask more about the attack. 

"What triggered it? What's got them upset with you again?"

"Same stuff as always, I assume..." I murmur with a shrug that causes my back to spasm with a surge of pain. "Fran was the only reason they were leaving me alone. With her gone, I am a wounded animal in their eyes. "

"It will be handled."

"No offense, but in the last ten plus times that this has happened, I always get the same assurance that never comes true." I murmur, a twinge of annoyance coloring my tone for a moment. 

We are at the infirmary now, crossing across the space where just a few nights ago me and Sam were sneaking around like ninjas. 

"Wait here, I'll check to see if a nurse is available." 

Sister Catherine leaves me standing on my own a few feet from the exit. It's because of this that I notice when the doors open and four fully decked-out police officers step into the lobby, each of them holding onto the forearms of two scruffy boys looking pretty worse for wear.

I stand there, wordless for a moment, standing awkwardly to control the pain all over my torso. My face surely looks as good as I fel, as well... As I lock eyes with Sam, I feel a trail of blood run down the left side of my face. 

His struggles against the officers seize and he fully takes me in as I do him, seeing his pastel blue orphange uniform all torn up and bloodied. His confusion swiftly turns to regret when he realizes the only way I could have gotten so many injuries at one time would be if something awful had happened. 

I know that things are bad, so I figure that I might as well go out with a bang. With eyes locks on his and no humor in my voice, I dryly say "Welcome back. You look like you got hit by a car." 

I see his brown eyes shift with pain within them. He doesn't get to get his two cents in before the officers drag him and Nathan off down an adjacent hall. Sam's broken face sticks out in my mind as Sister Catherine aids me backto the nurses' station. How am I supposed to deal with the aftermath of everything that has happened now?... 

There's too much to be sorted, and just thinking about it all makes me feel nauseous and stressed. I know that sooner or later... I will undoubtedly have to face my actions, and ultimately face him. Some part of me was lowkey hoping they wouldn't return so I'd never have to address my foolish actions. But with him rolling in here looking like someone took a bat to him, I know that there will be at least one more foolish interaction with him.


	10. Tell Me

Sister Catherine and the head nurse escort me to the infirmary where I would spend the next two hours answering an assortment of medical questions. With my head throbbing from more than just a headache, I find that each one I answer makes it ache more. 

With my adrenaline wearing off, I am quickly becoming aware of the all-too-familiar patches of pain all over my body and fear the worst. The nurse does what she can, but when she goes to check on my ribs and I wince and nearly leap off the bed at her touch, I catch the concerned look she gives Sister Catherine, and from past experience, I know what this means. 

They call to the hospital to send over a team of doctors. I eavesdrop on the nurse's conversation in the adjacent room, recognizing the tone of voice as the same one she'd used to address my bullying incidents in the past. 

I lie on my back on the lumpy cot, staring up at the bright fluorescent lights hanging above my head, their blinding glow bleaching every surface in faded, lifeless colors. I close my eyes for a bit... Not thinking of anything in particular, trying my hardest not to...

It's easy enough to get hurt on accident... Hell, even on purpose. Anyone could go and try to take a blade to themselves or slice their skin while chopping vegetables. It's harder not to get hurt. Hard not to get hurt emotionally by the people you love ceaselessly, hard not to get hurt physically by those who don't understand you and do not want to, and find it much easier to just beat you to death for what makes you different. 

I never want to hurt anyone. I avoid fights, I don't swing back... I stay quiet and accept things because I don't want to spread hurt around. That tactic hasn't worked too well in my experience. Too many people will take advantage of it and call it weakness, not recognizing it as simply resisting the urge to join the murder.

I've been through this process many times in the past, so I tune out a bit when the doctors show up to finish looking me over. When they get to my ribs, they confirm my earlier concerns.

"Yep, I'd be willing to bet that there is now a fracture here..." The doctor named Nicholas says. He's a tall, balding man with glasses settled on the end of his nose. He pushes in on the patch of skin in question, watching for the wince that certainly follows. "And here... Possibly a full break. She'll need an X-ray to know for sure."

Sister Catherine nods solemnly, gesturing for the doctor to follow her into an adjacent room where even over the hum of the air conditioning keeping the room a chilly 45 degrees, I could hear her making the arrangements for a hospital visit the following day.

Sure, I've been outside the gates plenty of times for a variety of reasons... But not medical. In the past, my injuries had been so bad that it required the doctors to bring everything to me. I remember being in that crippled state a little over two years ago, just before Fran showed up to be my guardian angel. I writhed in agony and lived in fear, knowing what would happen to me if I were ever alone. It infuriates me still that they were never kicked out or moved to another facility despite the repeat offenses. 

When they return, I fleetingly meet the eyes of the head doctor who makes a big show out of pretending to care about my individual well-being when I can read it all too well behind his glasses, hidden in his eyes, that I'm just another patient and just another paycheck. He has no reason to go out on a limb for me and suggest a changing of room or upgraded security measures.

"We'll have you all fixed up in no time, Michelle." He assures me with a firm pat on my arm that still manages to cause a spasm of pain. "Tomorrow at eleven." He nods towards Sister Catherine on his way out, his useless entourage following him out. In the entirety of his visit, the other two doctors who accompanied him did nothing. 

"How do you feel?" Sister Catherine asks me again, coming to my side, giving my hand a far gentler squeeze than Iron Fingers had. 

"Okay," I admit, voice growing hoarse from all the talking. "Everything hurts, but that is to be expected. What do I do now? What's going to happen to those girls?"

My voice got louder as the anger rushed back to me. Sister Catherine quickly coddled the situation by patting my hand in reassurance, looking down at me with brown, wise, but tired eyes. "I do not know." She admits, causing me to sigh. My anger tried to hike up more venomous words, but I stopped myself, reminding myself mentally that it would do nothing to help my situation if I got snippy with one of the head ladies. 

"We're going to have to be particularly careful with you until we can get those ribs X-rayed. I'll have Janice and Parker move your bed into one of the solitary rooms for the evening. There you will be able to get some rest and peace. I'll have Janice bring you a more comfortable change of clothes."

With that, she gave me a warm smile and exited the room. My limited mobility also limited how much I could see. I lie on my back, craning my neck to get a better look at the space around me, but there's not much to be seen. Even attempting to sit up the littlest bit results in a sharp surge of pain from my ribs causing me to audibly groan and grit my teeth. 

As Sister Catherine had promised, the two nurses came into the room moments later. Janice and Parker are pretty young, and if I remember right, they are actually brother and sister and volunteer in the infirmary occaisionally. They're not teens, though. They surely live exciting lives outside the gates of this place when they are not here. 

"Alright darlin'," Janice greets me with a big, warm, encouraging smile as she advances towards me, Parker not far behind. "Let's get you more comfortable. We've got a room ready for you and I'll help you get changed. No need for you to be stuck in that stiff, ichy uniform."

Her words make me laugh, and also instantly regret it. Her smile turned to a frown when she realized how much pain her joke had caused me. "Sorry," She apologizes with a sheepish smile. "I can't help being so cheerful. "

"You're good." I reply, trying to sound unbothered, but the stressed pressure in my voice gave away the ongoing pain I was going through. Her brow pinches together in thought for a moment before quickly tossing a glance back at Parker. "Would you please go check with the head nurse to see if we can provide her with some painkillers?"

Parker nods and silently leaves. With that, she came towards me. "I think I can get you myself."

She walks around the bed until she's just behind my head, and begins pushing the hospital bed out of the partitioned exam room. Out into the hallway we go, with me straining to see literally anything. Regardless of my state, I'm fascinated by new and unexplored places. I've never had the chance to fully explore the emergency side of the infirmary... Only the standard one which contained a single bed and a jar full of cotton swaps - nothing too interesting. 

She stops to walk around the bed to open the bedroom door, and resumes her place behind me to push me in. I crane my neck to see as much of my new living space as possible. I recognize it as Fran's room, now void of her presence and possessions.

"You should be comfortable here." Janice says, settling my bed to the left of the one window in the small room, Fran's old bed opposite mine. She leaves my side to go to the window to open the curtains, allowing a solid stream of golden sunlight to pour in. "There, now, that's better. Let's get you changed."

Ever since the incident with Kyle, I'd become even more reclusive about my body and who could see it. Of course, living in a room full of girls your whole life, you adapt to changing as quickly as possible while minimalizing the amount of time spent with skin exposed. Now I found myself being undressed and redressed by someone I hardly know. 

There'd been another nurse in the past that did the same thing for me, but back then my mind wasn't stained with the awful things Kyle did. 

She takes away my school uniform, folding it neatly and setting it in a pile on the dresser near the door. She replaced it with a long, comfortable lace nightgown. Of course, it wasn't flattering at all, especially not with the dress code being: "if you've got it, hide it under a thick layer of ugly wool". 

I watched her from my crippled spot on the bed as she went to the linen closet and pulled out a heavy quilt. She paused near Fran's bed to snatch the pillow, as well. 

"Here you go." She says as she helps me lift my head to place it underneath. I feel like a child as she covers me up in the quilt, checking me over multiple times in such a maternal fashion that it makes my heart ache.

"Janice?"

"Yes?" She looks up at me, eyes surprised. I realize then that I hadn't actually spoken to her yet. 

"Can I ask you a question?"

"Of course."

"Do you have any kids?"

She gets this proud smile that brings bright shimmering specks to her eyes, and I expect her to say yes until the joy slipped away from her expression and she says in a somber but warm tone. "I was meant to... I had a miscarriage. My little girl would have been seven now."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be," She smiles at me. "while it still hurts and probably always will, my love for children has brought me to places like these." She gestures around herself. "I love my job."

"You're very good at it." I compliment her, giving her a smile. She smiles back, genuine happiness reaching her eyes. She scoops up my pile of clothes off the dresser and prepares to leave. 

"I'll have these washed up for you. Parker will bring by your medication and supper will be ready in an hour. Is there anything else you need?"

I shake my head. "No, I'm good. Thank you."

With one last smile and a nod, she leaves. I listen hard and hear the audible click of the automatic lock on the other side as the door closes behind her. Alone in my new cell, I look around. The cliche landscape watercolor paintings hang above the furniture with one wooden replica of Jesus on the cross hanging above the dresser near the door. I stare it down, admiring the color contrast between the pastel green wallpaper and the dark stain of the wood. 

The exhaustion must've overwhelmed me, because I passed out not long after. I slept soundly for a couple hours and awoke to the darkness outside, and a covered tray on my bedside table with a note.

I reach up for the slip of paper and fumble with the lamp string above my head, carefuly not to move too much. I pull the chain and read the note: You were sleeping and I did not want to wake you. Take your meds, I'll be by at 6:00am to check on you.

With a sigh, I reach for the little plastic cup on the table containing two white tablets. By this time, my eyes had adjusted to the darkness beyond the bright overhead light and I spotted something sitting on Fran's bed across the room that caused my heart to stop and a stifled scream to escape my lips.

"Chill! It's just me!" A voice hisses back, but it's not the one I'd expect to hear in my room at this hour. I squint into the darkness, and from the pale blue light coming through the now open window, I see him rise from the opposing bed and step forward into the halo of light, wearing a new shirt that certainly wasn't part of the dress code. A dirty looking black Queen shirt. 

"Sam?" I whisper back, my heart still pounding. "What the fuck are you doing in my room? Get out." 

"Wow, thanks." He replies with dry sarcasm. "I went to a lot of trouble getting here." 

"You're going to get caught and we'll both be in trouble!" I hiss at him, while I reach up and tug the lamp chain again, allowing the room to fall back into blissful darkness. I shoot him one last look before closing my eyes. 

"What happened to you?"

"Does it matter?" I reply coldly, wishing deeply for him to go so I don't have an opportunity to mess things up more than they already are. Truth be told, I'm terrified to address the problem and wish he'd just forget it and leave me be. Of course, I couldn't be that lucky.

A moment of silence falls between us before he speaks. "I'll say I'm sorry if that makes you feel better... Though I don't know what I am apologizing about."

"You know, if I weren't pissed at you right now, that might mean something to me." I reply gruffly, squeezing my eyes shut in an effort to fall asleep and tune him out. I hear him sigh and imagine him hanging his shoulders in defeat.

"What? Why the Hell are you mad at me? I didn't do anything!" He hisses and I hear his rapid footsteps as he rushes forward, stopping again, sighing heavily. 

I stay silent for a moment, the last memory of him playing through my mind. The way I leaned in, high and drunken on tranquilizers, going to steal a kiss from this beautiful beast when he promptly grabbed my shoulders and pushed me back, informing me only then that another love awaited him elsewhere. It was pathetic and degrading and did no good to my confidence. It was his delivery that left something to be desired... And had honestly left me spending the previous 24 hours trying to figure out what I'd done wrong. 

"A woman's heart is a frail thing." I finally reply, just loud enough for him to hear. I feel my cheeks burning and my hands growing sweaty, but despite all of this, I refuse to open my eyes to look at him. "Right or not, you left me feeling like damaged goods. It was cruel and careless and I don't much care if I talk to you or not."

I very much so do care. 

His silence had me worried, and when it dragged out too long I was tempted to peek and see if that filthy lizard had squirmed back out the window and was already halfway across the estate. It was a quiet sigh of defeat that alerted me to his lingering presence. 

"I didn't mean to hurt your feelings, Missy."

"Maybe not..." I muse quietly, carefully choosing my words. "But you did. And now you come back here to parade around my room like a damn peacock instead of giving me a damn moment of peace to mend my shattered bones."

I am being a wee bit dramatic. 

"...Would you like me to leave?" He offers sincerely, his tone conflicted. 

My heart leaps and it annoys me how it reacts negatively to his words. I mentally scold myself and force myself to reply with a nonchalant "Yes, please."

"Well..." He sighs and I can hear his shoes scuffing along on the floorboards as he shuffles grudgingly towards the window. "Too bad." 

I hear the window slide shut, followed by the creak as he settles back onto the other bed. One eye pops open to glare at him in the darkness. I pray he can feel the heat of my anger piercing his skin, but he doesn't seem bothered. 

He sits in the glow of dim moonlight, relaxing back against the lumpy pillow, converse-clad ankles crossed comfortably at the end of the bed, his arms crossed across his chest while he stares ahead with a pleasant expression that is difficult to make out in the darkness.

"Why are you like this?" I sigh, twisting my neck against the pained strain of sore muscles to get a good look at him. His head turns in my direction, but I can only see the half of his face that isn't eclipsed by the shadow of his nose and hair. 

"I thought you were busy drowning out my existence?"

"I thought you were going to leave but I couldn't be that lucky." I mutter in response, relaxing back into my pillows, feeling the pained sensation in my neck ease. I stare ahead, trying to make out the painting on the wall across the room now, anything to busy my eyes and mind. 

"I'm confused," he admits "first you try to kiss me, and now you are trying to send me to Hell with your glares. Please explain to me where your newfound bipolar attitude is coming from."

"Fuck off." I reply, gritting my teeth, forcing my eyelids back together. 

A silence follows for a while before he speaks again. "I'm sorry, I'm being a dick. Can we start over?"

"To be honest, Sam... I don't think I want to. I don't know what lies ahead and after the complicated time we've already had, I'm not sure I want to even explore it."

"I'm trying to fix things."

"There is nothing to be fixed." I reply, "It was an instance that made us realize we cannot co-exist in harmony without problems arising. I think it'd just be best if we cut our ties now and go our separate ways."

"Missy, I get that you're mad. I do... But you're being dramatic."

Yes, I am.

"Hardly." I scoff, lying against my better thoughts. "I'm kindly letting you go. Dramatic would be me shaming you in front of the school and never letting you live it down. Dramatic would be me making your life a living hell. I'm merely telling you what I want and how you can help me achieve it. Leave me be."

"Won't you regret this?" He wonders, his voice changing to sound more reflective and doubtful. 

"Letting you go?"

"Yeah."

"Probably." I reply honestly. 

"Then why do that to yourself?"

I hesitate, biting on my lip in perplexed annoyance while I cultivate a worthy response. 

"I have my regrets." He continues, not waiting for me to reply, his tone sounding a bit defensive. "I know what loss is, Missy. You know that. I think it'd be a real loss if we give up this epic friendship we've got going on right now. You're a right kicker to be around, you know." 

I choose not to reply.

"My Dad ditched me and my brother here and you're the only one I trust enough to be around. I still want to be around you, even if it's only on a platonic basis. I want to get to know you... I just need to say there are boundaries."

"I know." I reply, feeling the weight of my guilt. "I just figured I guess... That if you were here, there is no one else. It's a shitty mistake on my end that you made infinitely worse by bailing out instead of having this conversation yesterday."

"I know. I'm sorry. Truth is, I didn't want to face it either. In the moment it seemed easier for me to just go and to keep running. I didn't expect those cops to tag us at the gas station..." His tone trailed off. This catches my attention, causing me to perk up.

"What about Fran and Liam? Did they make it?"

I twist around to look at his face again. His brow is pinched in deep thought. "They did... Up until we split up to lose the cops. They kept going... Which reminds me..."

He sits up a little bit and fishes around in the front pocket of his blue jeans before retrieving a scrap of paper. "This is for you. From Fran... It's contact info and whatnot..."

He tosses it through the air, and the little piece of paper must've had some weight to it because it landed in my lap. With slow, cautious movements, I reach for it. 

"She said she'd be mailing you her address as soon as she is settled in Oregon. Under a pseudonym. Um, Jackie Sara?" 

I laugh quietly, shaking my head, unrolling the thick paper between my fingers.

"Is it an inside joke type of thing?" He asks in confusion. "It sounds too deliberate to be a spur of the moment thing."

"Oh yeah, you could say that." The small smile that tugs my lips hurts my cheeks. "Back when she first became my roommate along with Lena, there's no denying that we were all suffering from some kind of dissociative disorder. We gave ourselves alter egos and when we hung out, we used those and creative fictional lives that we pretended to live out for a little bit before going back to reality."

"Like roleplay?"

"Don't expect me to know what that is." I shoot him a look to remind him of my limited knowledge of outside things. "Anyway, hers was Jackie Houten Sara... An abstract artist from Amsterdam living in New York, who enjoyed eating black licorice while murdering anyone born on the third day of March. Lena's was Katridge O'Hare, a seemingly quiet pharmacist living in rural Texas with an affinity for stealing people's doorknobs at night... You see, that was the catch to our characters, we'd give them a trait so bizarre that it'd keep us grounded and keep us from becoming too much like them. Dissociative disorders are a dangerous thing when you don't recognize the risks involved with pretending to be something else to escape your life."

He laughs and I smile fondly at the memory.

"What about you? What was yours?"

"Oh no, we're not going down that road." I shake my head, my smile turning nervous. 

"Come on, it can't be that bad. Besides, that's not you."

I look at him and see the eagerness on his face and it seems to be enough to convince me. "Fine... Fine." I sigh in defeat. "Mine was named Irina Blake. She was an..." I hesitate and lower my voice to a stubborn mumble, hoping he'd miss my words entirely. "exotic dancer and fantasy girl." 

"A what?" he cackles and I feel my cheeks turning red in the darkness. Mine was definitely a fucked up far cry from the other two. It wasn't on purpose, and besides, between me, Fran and Lena, we were a non-judgemental bunch. We took each other as we were, no questions asked. Now maybe they thought about how weird my alter ego was at the time but just never voiced it. I suppose I won't ever know.

"Yep. Anyway, she had had a horrible past. She saw it all as a chance to restart."

"So... Let's get this straight. Your alter-ego had an alter-ego?... Ego-ception!"

"I suppose... All the same, her weird trait was wearing a foam Lady Liberty crown while streaking through suburban neighborhoods with a bundle of panda balloons."

"That... Doesn't sound weird. It just sounds like a good time."

"You're ridiculous." I shake my head, sliding the note under my pillow for safe keeping. I'd read it in the morning. 

"I didn't think up that atrocious mind-fuck." He reminds me with a chuckle. 

"Fair enough."

When things got quiet again, I could hear the hum of the crickets outside the window and the muted sound of talking down the hall in the lobby. 

"So then... Are we good?"

I take a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Yeah... We're good. I ask one thing of you, though."

"What's that?"

"We don't talk about this again. We pretend that it never happened, alright?"

"Deal." 

He gets up off the other bed and stalks toward me, extending his hand towards me, pinky extended. 

I laugh in surprise. "What are you? Five?"

"Just do it."

I loop my pinky with his and we shake on it. I look up at him and he grins, my gaze then falls upon the clock. "Shit! It's almost six, the nurse is going to be back in here." 

"Right... I shall see you tomorrow. Adios!" He lifts the window and sticks his head out to take in his surroundings. "Say, what is your injury anyway?"

"Multiple broken ribs and who knows what else." I shrug. "Same shit, different day. I'm headed to the hospital with Sister Catherine in the morning for X-Rays."

"I shall stop by tomorrow night for an update, then... Best of luck." He salutes me and climbs out the window, sliding it shut behind him. I listen hard, trying to figure out if he is still safely climbing down or if he'd managed to fall. My hearing picked up on the sound of footsteps coming down the hall. Within a few moments, the bedroom door clicked and quietly swung in, revealing Janice. I close my eyes and fake some deep, content breaths.

She touches my forehead, checking for a fever. A few more vital checks later and she's on her way back out, the door closing again behind her with that same click to signal my imprisonment.


	11. Hospital Stay

The ride to the hospital, for the most part, was uneventful... It took both Janice and Parker to lift me from the bed so we could figure out if I was capable of riding in a car, or if I'd need my bed transferred into a van for transport. 

Upon standing, with their arms under me for support, I could feel the cold floorboards on the bottoms of my bare feet. I shift my weight slightly, being cautious as I attempt to explore the extent of the damage done. 

There was certainly a sharp pain that came from my lower ribs, indicating what I already knew for the most part. Everything else was mostly just sore.

"Are you sure you're okay?" Janice asks me, looking in my eyes while Parker shines a light into them. 

"I'm good." I reply, struggling against the urge to blink or squeeze my eyes shut.

"Looks fine." Parker says when I pass the test, tucking his mini flashlight back into the chest pocket of his crisp white uniform. 

"No pain anywhere else?" She pressures, guiding me gingerly towards the center of the small room.

"Oh there's pain everywhere," I crack but the laughter rattles my ribs, causing me to wince and recoil. "But concerning pain? No, nowhere else."

"Do you think you can ride in a car?"

I step free of their aid, testing my weight on my own feet. I lift my arms a bit and twist my torso, feeling the broken shift. "Sure..." I reply uncertainly, "can I have my ribs in a vice in the meantime?" 

Janice nods toward Parker and he exits the room. "He'll get something for that. Do you want some pain killers?"

I shake my head, frowning. "No... The pain isn't too bad as long as I don't move quickly and am careful of my movements. I'm pretty sure only the bottom left rib is broken but I don't know for sure. It's been broken before and it felt like that."

"We should have taken you in yesterday." Janice murmurs.

"That was not an option. She needed her rest."

We both look back at the bedroom door where Sister Catherine stands silently, standing straight and wearing a stern expression. Her gaze switches between the two of us before she steps closer. "Your ride has been arranged. We'll leave as soon as you're ready."

I nod and look back at Janice. "I think I'm alright."

Parker comes back into the room, holding a long, thick strip of black fabric with velcro straps. "I couldn't find a vice bandage, but this should work the same. It's used to relieve back pain usually, but it'll keep anything from moving in transit."

Sister Catherine steps back and allows them to have space to work, watching them with narrowed, judging eyes. What had happened this morning?

Parker pulls the last velcro strap into place and double-checks everything. "Okay, that should do."

Janice grabs my jacket and places it over the lace nightgown she'd helped me into the night before. With that, I sullenly follow Sister Catherine out to the lobby with Janice and Parker not far behind to catch me when my own feet fail me. Sister Catherine seems to be in a rare, sour mood... She keeps a steady pace six feet ahead while I struggle to keep up, careful not to jostle my bones around any more than I already have. 

She stops at the administrative desk to check me out while I linger, looking around the empty halls. 

~~~

Me being me, someone who has been outside the walls of the orphanage only enough times to count on one hand, I was fascinated by the scenery. The towering, modern buildings... The cars, the people.... A whole world beyond my understanding. 

I rest my forehead against the backseat window while Sister Catherine drives with a religious music station playing quietly on the radio.

"What happened?" I murmur while we are stopped at a lengthy stop light. I don't lift my head to look at her, but I meet her eyes in the rearview mirror. They lock with mine before flitting back to the road ahead.

"What do you mean?"

"You seem upset today." I reply with a slight shrug. "Did something happen?"

"Nothing important." She replies shortly, "just a troubled child I had to discipline... Lord knows he wouldn't have gripped it otherwise."

"Who was it?"

Her drawn out silence was accompanied by her lips pressing into a thin line. I decided that she would not tell me any more and I let it go. My gaze falls back out upon the outside world, so lively and bright in comparison to the dark and ominous stone towers and turrets of the children's home. All the bright colors, the smells coming through the cracked window, and the sounds.

I look up at the big brick buildings we drive by and I try to imagine Sam and Nathan running across their rooftops, hand in hand, grins spread wide across their faces as they sprint for their lives, hearts pounding with the bright streams of light piercing their backs accompanied by the yelling of officers telling them to stop. 

A rusty water tower comes into my view and I crane my neck to get a better look at its decrepit appearance. Sam would be sitting at the top, kicking his legs off the edge, rambling about some random shit. I can imagine Nathan being there, too... Tossing rocks over the railing and laughing. 

I imagine that today they're probably in trouble for sneaking out. Hopefully, Sam did not get caught on the way back to his room last night... I suppose if they allow me to go home tonight and not keep me overnight, I will be finding out if he shows up with bruised knuckles and a story to tell for his troubles. 

Not too long later, we pull into the parking lot of the hospital. I'd gotten a little bit of walking done this morning and it was painful enough to confirm the broken ribs and multiple bruises all over my body. Hopefully this time those kids finally get the shit that is coming to them, I am sick and tired of always being the victim, walking and waiting in fear that someone would catch me again when I am alone. 

I've done this all a couple times before, so from the moment I am in the hospital, through the X-rays and all that jazz to the point in which I am settled into my room for recovery, it speeds by in a blur.

"Can I get you anything before I go?" Sister Catherine asks, standing at the end of my bed. I shake my head, also taking a moment to admire my new binding of bandages around my ribs. What a fun life to live. 

"I'm good..." I reply, then frown. "Would you mind passing on a message for me, though?"

"To whom?"

"Samuel Morgan," I say his name and it tastes like a dirty secret. I see her expression change as she lifts her chin in a miffed fashion. "You're not friends with that delinquent, are you?"

"Acquaintances, yes," I reply, using a very cautious, timid tone, becoming increasingly aware of her distaste toward the Morgan boys. 

"Hm," she narrows her eyes at me in a disappointed, judging fashion which I fight to not defy. I am not in the best of places right now to be stirring the pot. "What is your message? I'll... Make an effort to pass it along."

Her tone is reluctant but kind. 

"Can you just let him know where I am? He'll be worried if I up and disappear." I shrug a bit, trying to come off as nonchalant and friendly about the whole thing but she doesn't appear to be buying it. If she's thinking anything different, she does not voice it. 

"I'll see to it that he knows... Anything else?"

I shake my head, watching the weary energy in her eyes as she crosses her arms across her chest for a few moments thoughtfully. She says her goodbyes and leaves me there. 

I don't feel like I need to describe the boring and redundant days that followed... I'd be released in two days and would be placed back into my secluded room until I'd healed enough to join the others. I've been through this many times, the plot and routine is familiar to me.

When Tuesday morning came, Sister Catherine had returned to retrieve me. With some assistance, I tried my luck really walking and moving around and was found to be fully capable of riding home in her car.

The ride was silent, she never breached the subject of Samuel Drake or his younger brother, and I didn't ask... Purely out of worry that it'd only tie me in more if something went wrong in the future. I instead spent the drive back staring out my window, thinking about Fran. Man, I miss her. If I could just talk to her now about my problems, she'd easily put my mind at ease. 

If all goes well, she's probably halfway to Oregon with Liam. I can only pray for her and hope for the best and that I will see her again someday, even if that day is in the distant future. 

Once parked, I had the assistance of the nurses getting inside but I was pretty capable of things by myself now that my wounds have been bound to keep them from moving too much when I do.

The rest of the day is quiet, boring, and lonely... Lena was allowed to stop by for a little bit this afternoon with one of the sisters hanging out nearby. It made me feel more like a prisoner than an injured kid. Her smile was enough to bring a little light to my day, however the conversation was lackluster. The normal gossip we'd swap in private had to be kept to a minimal under the watchful eyes of Sister Mabel. 

That night, under the cover of black sky, moon and stars, I waited. Part of me knew in a sad, honest way, that he would probably not even know that I am back yet. He'd be completely oblivious to my existance and I would not see him.

However, I was luckily proved wrong when a quiet tapping resumed at my window, sending my heart thudding against my ribs while I fiddled with my blankets to get out of bed as carefully as possible as not to disturb my ribs. I go to the window and look out into the dimly lit night and he is there, standing on the roof edge just outside my window, waving.

I smile at him involuntarily while I pry open the window to let him in, wincing everytime the hardware would squeak. 

"Look who's not dead!" He congratulates me, the first words out of his mouth accompanied by a crooked, smug smile. I push down all the feelings that start swirling in my chest at the sight of it and smile back at him. Trying my hardest not to fracture our friendship again.

"May I come in?"

"You may," I stand aside, gesturing for him to enter. He climbs in through the gap, landing on the wood floor quietly. He looks the same as the other night, except now he is back to wearing the standard issue boys' uniform consisting of blue jeans and a pastel blue shirt layered over a long sleeve grey one. 

He doesn't look too worse for wear. I notice a small cut across his left cheek but choose not to say anything, yet he seems to catch my lingering gaze. 

"Don't worry about it," He assures me, shrugging out of his school backpack he'd brought along, tossing it onto Fran's old bed. "I just had a run-in with the welcoming committee, is all."

"You're better at making friends than enemies, aren't you?" I ask him in a joking tone but it just sounds saddened. Having learned of the harder parts of his past, it's hard for me to look at him knowing he's generally unliked here and picked on. The poor kid's got it bad enough. Just shitty teens being shitty to each other, I guess. 

"Yes, but don't weep for me... I'm better on my own. Hey, I've got something to show you!"

He unzips his backpack and pulls something out. I sit on the edge of my bed carefully, watching him rummage around inside some more before turning back to me and bringing over a small, heavily worn book.

"What's this?" I ask, taking the book from him, looking down at its cover in confusion. 

"Our next adventure!" He insists in a hushed enthusiastic tone, pointing at the cover. "I've put some thought into it, and as soon as you, me, and my brother are out of here, we're going after it."

I'm quite familiar with it, of course. The book had seen years of love and adoration from dreaming adventurers and researchers alike. The smooth red leather binds the outside while the cover features an etching in gold ink.

"The Tales of Turbulence, Plunder, and Fortune of Sir Francis Drake." I read the title out loud, admiring the image of his ship on the front. All things related to sailing, ships, and ancient historical figures fascinate me. Of course, I know his story well. 

"It was my Mother's last work," he admits with a sheepish shrug. "It'd be like an opportunity to make her proud if I and Nathan could complete it for her. You included."

I hand him his book back, hesitant. "Am I really the third adventurer you're looking for? You hardly know me."

"That's true," He says with a nod, plopping down on the mattress beside me, opening the cover to point out some illustrations inside. "but you know your shit. That's what we need."

Before I can object any further, he points to an ink sketch of the Golden Hind, an English Galleon which served as Drake's ship. As I study the rough lines of ink making up the image, I can't deny the pull it has on me. The enthralling feeling of pursuing the lure of adventure to undiscovered places in search of his last secrets... Though, those are just kids stories. Aren't they? 

"Can you imagine it?" He breathes, absolutely caught up in reading over the words that from just looking at his face I can tell he's read enough times to memorize. His excitement toward the subject is undeniable. 

I watch the way his brown eyes seem to light up in the dark, his excitement silencing my every thought while I sneakily steal prolonged glances at his face, secretly trying to identify what it is exactly about him that makes him so fascinating to me. 

"We'd travel the world, following the clues he left behind, and after a long and tiring mission full of peril, we'd find it, and we'd be famous..." He sighs contently at the thought. "And with the money... Hey, maybe I could give Nathan the life he deserves?"

He smiles then sighs contently, closing the book and setting it aside. I imagine the things he must be, the fantastic discovery that it would surely be to tail one of the most famous explorers of all time to the ends of the Earth in search of his legacy... Possibly millions in gold and jewels.

I sit in silence while he sighs in content excitement. There is an uncomfortable tension between us regardless of the lighthearted conversation. 

"When you say when we get out of here... Do you really mean that?" I wonder doubtfully, looking down at my hands in my lap, wringing my fingers together uncomfortably for the several long seconds that followed.

"I do," He finally confides. "I mean, why not?"

"Why not?" I hedge, my voice incredulous as a million different reasons to object flit through my mind. "Sam, we hardly know each other and we've already had our fair share of bad experiences. And besides, when we get out of here, they'll throw us out with nothing but the clothes on our backs. Do you really want to live like grime rats on the streets?"

I lay back in my bed, resting my head against the headboard, looking down at him sitting at the foot of the bed, thinking hard. 

"There are remedies for each of the problems you've presented. They're obstacles, yeah, but we can overcome them. Right?"

He looks to me now, the dark blue light from the window illuminating his boyish features. I look into his dark, hopeful eyes for a few moments while thinking of a response. 

"Imagine it... Throw away your concerns for a moment and come with me. We could travel the world and see everything in it, following the clues and the riddles. It'd be just the three of us making it work. And yeah, maybe we'd be livin' on the streets for a bit, but that's part of the adventure. No more of this place... Me and you will be old "

He says it with such certainty that he's got me believing it, too. I know in my heart the reason I am so doubtful is because my understanding of life outside these walls is so limited. I know little to nothing about how the world really is right now, forget going out there to learn about the past.

Sam and Nathan have got that up on me. They spent the majority of their young lives living with their parents in a nice suburb of Boston. They know more about the world than I could dream of learning. 

"So are you with me?" 

He extends his hand toward me and I stare at it for a moment, knowing that it's just a friendly, stupid gesture... But in my heart I feel that it will someday mean something much more to me. 

I hesitantly extend my hand toward his, looking into his eyes one last time before locking grip with his. He shook my hand firmly, a devilish grin spreading across his face as he immediately jumped into explaining the broader details of the excursion. The people we'd encounter, the places we'd see and the things we'd have to do.

With this lurid tale littered with the punctuation of adventurous terms, I ate it up, completely ignoring the bitter details that might be a problem later like where we'd get the money and what kind of sacrifices we'd have to make just to get out of the harbor. 

Sam stayed with me until the wee hours of the morning when the dusty pink sunlight burst through the open window. When he'd overstayed his welcome, he slipped back out the window just before Sister Catherine entered the room to check on me. 

The days that followed my injury were long and slow... They allowed Lena to visit me a few times, and during those visits I'd ask her if anything had been heard from Fran or Liam yet... Or if they'd been brought back into custody. As far as she knew, they were still running free toward the borders of Oregon. 

I kept them both in my prayers each night, and crossed my fingers daily hoping that wherever she was headed, she'd end up finding the life she was dreaming of. 

By day five, I was free of the bed and allowed to move around, even if it was pretty limited. My ribs were always sore and aggravated, but I made the best of the time. 

Even when I was well enough to transfer back to one of the dorms, I was refused. They said they didn't want to risk further injury and keeping me isolated whenever possible was the best solution... I think the reality of it was that the doctors were getting quite suspicious of the things taking place here and maybe the authorities had gotten involved and to avoid a potential lawsuit, they needed to keep me clean and happy in the meantime. 

Sam was not allowed to visit me during daylight hours when I was in my room, because our closeness in age and differences in gender, it sent the Sisters into a freak out attack when it was even mentioned of allowing a boy to visit my room. 

That rule was broken nightly, anyway... And soon enough we discovered that the only one who could overcome that rule during the daytime was Nathan. Of course, he was not allowed to visit without a Sister serving as a chaperone in the room during the entirety of the visit, but it was nice to have the company all the time.

Nathan is a pretty quiet kid for the most part until you can prove to him that you're not going to tattle on him when he tells you something personal or if he confides in you. After a few days of his daily visits during break, he opened up to me quickly. Most afternoons he just brought a deck of playing cards along with him, and when we weren't playing a card game, he was showing me the magic tricks he was working on. 

During the day, I was allowed to join a few of the extracurricular classes that were normally full of the brainy kids too obsessed with beating their own scores to be worried about bothering me. I kept to myself, and did my work, doing my best to not draw much attention. 

I did however have to be back in my room for the rest of the day after lunch and study, and that's when Nathan would make his appearances. 

Sam's nightly visits were pretty uneventful for the most part. Obviously, they never escalated too far, just us chatting and playing checkers or something mundane. Over the two weeks I spent cooped up in that room, slowly making my recovery, unable to leave because my bullies had not been transferred yet and I couldn't move into a new hall, we got close. 

He told me more of his personal stories and would oblige when I inquired further about life outside... It got to the point where I actually felt comfortable referring to him as a friend. Each night we made a little bit of progress toward being inseparable friends and that embarrassing night of the party kept getting further behind me. 

There was one night unlike the rest... On this night, Sam did not show up at all. I left the window unlocked and peeked out into the dark night periodically for the silhouette climbing the decorative stone, but he never came. I eventually just gave up and went to bed. 

The following night, like clockwork, he returned. I was confused and a bit annoyed with him when he did not elaborate right away on where he'd been or what had him held up. Finally, I just burst and just asked him outright.

"Where were you last night?"

He looked as though he'd been put on the spot and was entirely unprepared to answer my question. After a few moments of floundering, he finally mumbled that he'd left the home last night.

"What do you mean you left? Did you take Nathan with you? Did you willingly return or get caught?"

"I went to visit someone, and no, I went alone... And I got in without anyone noticing."

He was splitting a deck of cards during this time. I watched his calculated movements from my bed in silence, feeling a weird sense of unease. 

"Who'd you visit?" I pushed when he did not immediately offer up an identity.

Once again he pondered in silence, causing me to grow worried. "Sam?"

"Um..."

"What? You're acting like a fuckin' twelve year old right now." I laugh. 

A look crossed his face that I immediately read and understood. 

"Dude, we're friends now, I'm past all that crap. You're not gonna hurt my feelings, out with it."

"I visited Crystal." He spits it out quickly, wincing as though the words had physically harmed him on the way out. He looked at me sheepishly, scouring my face for the look of disdain that was nonexistent. I had learned over the past two weeks how to carefully compose myself around him. I gave him my careless look and shrug. "Okay?"

"That's it?"

"Yeah... What did you want me to say?"

"I thought... Nevermind."

"It's fine," I laugh, my heart squeezing to remind me it was in fact not fine. I get down from my bed and sit across from him on the floor, accepting the small stack of cards he hands me. "You have your private life, I get that. And as for everything else, we've been over it. I'm over it."

"Are you really?" He questions me suspiciously, cocking an eyebrow at me. I nod confidently, briefly proud at myself for how well I was handling all these curveballs and awkward quirks in the conversation. 

"I am. Now what are we playing?"

He hesitates a moment, looking as though he has something else to say, but quickly lets it go. 

"Tomorrow I am set to move back into my room, and a doctor is coming by to look at the healing progress. With any luck I'll be free soon." I say, pointing to the brace I have to wear to keep everything together. 

"Cool... When you're back and ready to roll, I have an adventure planned out."

"Well tomorrow night works just fine," I persist, "I'm fine."

He looks at me, but not in a doubtful way. He smiles cheerfully, glad that we're back on the same level again. 

Fourteen days of us spending so much time in close quarters had certainly shifted the way we interacted around each other. Obviously, the embarrassing incident that took place the night of the storage house party isn't going anywhere. We've both done a pretty good job ignoring it for the most part until times like these when its existence is unavoidable and Sam asks for the millionth time if I'm really okay.

Each time my delusional mind twists the words to believe that he's not asking for me, but for himself. If I've really moved on from it like I claim, he wouldn't bother getting involved and it hurts my heart to think about it.

I've spent too many restless nights pondering the cute relationship that has developed... And questioning its existence in every possible way. I need to cut those feelings out soon before it becomes a bigger problem for me.

Morning comes and I have my evaluation. It is eventless for the most part, and within the hour I am collecting my things and am being escorted back to my old dormitory. When I walk in, I immediately take notice of the three empty beds beside mine, each one made up with the standard white bedding instead of the colorful quilts we receive when we move in. It's cold, silent evidence that the girls had been removed. 

I am carefully watched by one of the sisters while I rearrange my things and settle back in. I can't quite figure out why I am not allowed to be by myself yet... It's not like I'm still broken up or incapable of doing things for myself. 

Once I am done, she escorts me in silence to my first class. After that, I'm free to wander by myself for the most part. I meet up with Lena at lunch and she is relieved. The forty minutes we have for lunch break she spent rambling about how great it is that I am back to normal living again and fills me in on everything I'd missed since she couldn't tell me some things in front of the chaperone on her visits to me in the isolation rooms.

"So Brenda and the other girls were transferred to another home, not sure which one... Kyle, too."

"Seriously? Thank God. It took them long enough." I murmur, feeling relieved by this bit of news. 

Sam had tried to keep up to date on the things around campus while I was N/A but some details were unobtainable for him. Lena had been here longer, knew most everyone, so her gossip connections were endless.

"How's Nathan doing? I don't get to see him too often."

"He's good." She replies cheerfully before concern shadows her face. "Most of the time. He's getting bullied, I think."

"By who?"

"Not sure." She says with a shrug. "Didn't Sam tell you?"

I shake my head, confused and feeling like the third wheel in my group of friends. "No, he didn't... Why wouldn't he?"

"Maybe he just did not want to stress you out? It would have slowed down your healing time if you were caught up worrying about him."

"Maybe..." I agree, thinking of mine and Sam's schedules, trying to remember which ones we'd cross paths during so I could ask him myself.


	12. Nose Bleed

As I exit my history class, I spot the duo walking in the opposite direction, Sam's brown hair neatly combed into its usual style. I'd be late for my next class if I went after him now, but what's a few minutes to make sure that everything is okay?

I jog toward them, weaving around the other students, causing some of them to grunt at me in frustration, muttering under their breath.

"Sam!" I call to him, watching him stop walking and turning to look over his shoulder half way. 

"Missy! What's up?"

Nathan is a few yards ahead of him when he notices his brother's absence and turns back, the confusion on his face quickly changing to a smile. He walks back towards us quickly.

"I need to talk to you about some things." I tell Sam as Nathan hugs my waist. I give him a look to indicate that it's a more serious matter that Nathan does not need to be apart of.

He nods once, his frown drawing a crease between his brows. 

"Nathan, why don't you go ahead and head to your next study? I'll catch up to you in a minute."

"Sam-" Nathan begins to groan in annoyance but Sam shushed him. "I'll only be a minute, okay? Promise you won't miss anything important."

Nathan isn't convinced, but after a moment of thinking in silence, he grudgingly leaves my side, head down, peeking back over his shoulder every couple steps to make sure we're not doing anything fun without him.

When Sam turns back to me, he is still wearing the grin of pride and amusement from his encounter with Nathan. "Okay, what's up?"

"It's about him." I nod in Nathan's direction. "Lena told me he's getting bullied. I need to know by who."

His face wrinkles and he begins to shake his head. "No, you don't need to get involved in this, okay?"

"Yes, I do." I tell him firmly, a slight smile on my lips. "I love that kid like my own brother. If someone's bothering him, I want to do what I can to help. Now, as you may remember, I've got the dirty details on everyone in this place. Just point me in the right direction and it'll stop."

He narrows his eyes at me, a charming smirk on his lips. He watches me from under his lashes, me much shorter than him. "What does that intale?"

"I'll seek out whoever the shithead is, and we'll have a polite little chat in which I will inform him of the secrets I possess and he'll either succumb to my demands or I'll make sure their dark secrets will be known by everyone in this place by tomorrow morning. It's simple."

He looks at me for a long moment in silence, contemplating my plan. "You drive a hard bargain... I'll bite. His name is Lonnie Brower. Got anything good on him?"

The name is instantly familiar. A sneaky smile crosses my lips and I nod proudly. "I might have a thing or two for him... I'll catch him after class."

"Missy, you are a gift." Sam chuckles, clapping me on the shoulder hard enough to make me stumble forward a bit. He looks at me apologetically, burying his hands in the pockets of his jeans. "Sorry."

I nod, "Accepted... I'll see you tonight, right?"

"Yes, you will... Where do you want me to meet you?"

"Front gates. I can get there easily on my own."

Sam departs first. I stay behind for a moment, watching him adjust his backpack straps as he walks off to join Nathan in their next shared class.

I ponder my word choice on the way to my own, trying to think of how I'd be delivering the not-so-peaceful peace message. My thoughts are shattered with Sister Carolyn snaps at me for being late when I walk through the classroom door.

Snickers spread around the classroom, and luckily that made her madder than my actual tardiness, causing her to point the end of her ruler at them with a stern look calling for silence. 

~~~

After my last class of the day, I was patrolling the hallways, waiting for the last late classes to end, carefully examining those who exited in a rush. Of course, I looked suspicious, pacing the halls with seemingly nowhere to be. To ease the tension, I'd just pretend to be digging through my bag for a pen whenever one of the Sisters would walk by.

"Good afternoon, Missy." Father Duffy greeted me as he walked briskly toward his office. Just seeing him walking around with his white collar of purity caused me to snicker when I'd remember the things I'd found hidden in the secret compartment under his desk. 

Soon enough all the classes were out and it was becoming obvious that I could no longer stall as the Sisters were getting restless watching me still standing in the hallways. If I didn't clear out soon, one of them would eventually approach me which I don't need. 

Feeling defeated, I began to make my way back toward the girls dorm, trying to think of a new way of dealing with Nathan's problem when I hear the clatter of the Sisters' short heels on the tile floor. 

I throw a confused look over my shoulder, spotting two of them coming straight toward me. I stumble a bit until I come to a stop, half expecting them to pull me aside for a chat, until they breezed right past me, maintaining a quick walk that was almost a jog.

Looking around myself and seeing no one else, I shrug and decide to tag along. I move quickly after them before they have a chance to lose me, keeping up easily but staying far enough behind that they don't hear me following them. 

They took a sharp left and I had to speed up to catch up to them. The closer I got to the corner, I could hear scolding voices and the strained yelling of a teenage boy. I skid to a stop, recognizing it as Sam's voice.

"This isn't fucking fair you morons! This shit sack has been beating on my brother for weeks and you've done nothing! All you people do is look the other way while the kids are having underground fight clubs because you're too big of pussies to get involved and do your job!"

I peer around the corner, not wanting to make myself known just yet. I gasp, seeing Nathan clinging to Sam's side while Sam is semi-wrapped around his brother in a protective stance, glaring at the audience the altercation had created. 

Standing aside with his head hanging behind Father Duffy is fucking Lonnie. I notice his bruised and bloody hands hanging at his sides and that's when I spot the blood smeared on Sam's shirt where Nathan has his face buried, hugging his brother's legs. 

Sister Catherine is there, standing in her usual stern stance, arms crossed, expression unhappy and disappointed. 

"Mr. Morgan, I understand your distaste for how things are being handled, but I can assure you we are doing all we can. If you have not noticed, there are over two hundred other children and teens in my care, I cannot keep my eye on each of them every moment of every day."

"See? That's the thing. You don't even try! You just turn around and hope it goes away."

"Samuel, we have never-"

"Bullshit!" He snaps. "Michelle? She told me how you people fucking do things here. She's been beaten on since she first got here, multiple broken bones and vicious attacks. Hell, she just recovered from the last attack. God knows you people only did anything this time because the doctors at the hospital had something to say about it, right? You were threatened with legal involvement and finally realized that you needed to get rid of some of the problem kids before it becomes too much of a news sensation. But as soon as that all cleared up, you went back to having your blinders on, pretending everything else is fine." 

Sister Catherine stands there in angry silence, arms crossed tightly across her chest. Father Duffy is quiet, but thoughtful, standing between Lonnie and Sam, the only thing keeping him from kicking his ass. 

Sam scoffs, glaring at his audience with burning hatred in his eyes. "You're gonna be sorry for this." He mutters, grabbing Nathan's hand and towing him away down the hall. Sister Catherine yells after him to stop and to come back, but he marched on with a firm determination.

I shrunk back from the wall, running back as quietly as I can manage to the nearest exit. Once outside, I jog through the maze of cobblestone walls covered in vines and decorative stone reliefs to double back to where Sam and Nathan would have to cross the courtyard to get to the Boy's dormitory. 

I hung out in the gardens for a few minutes until I spotted them walking up the trail. I ran toward them, joining up with them in time to catch a glimpse of Nathan's bloodied face. 

"Oh God... What happened?" 

"Fucking Lonnie." Sam replies in a seething voice. "I coulda killed him right there."

I crouch to get a better look at Nathan's face, but the pair of them are in a foul mood and he swats my hand away, going back to hiding his face again. 

"What can I do?" 

"You can point me in the direction of the nearest bathroom."

I point in the direction of the recreation building. "There's one in there... Are you okay?"

"I'm fine." He replies in a gruff voice, scooping up Nathan into his arms and walking away. "I just need some time to myself. I'll still see you tonight."

I watch him leave, feeling somewhat rejected myself. I understand that he wants to deal with it himself since it is his brother... But I can't help but feel like the third wheel. I'm a bit pissed at myself for not finding Lonnie before he found Nathan. Maybe I could have done something to prevent it, I don't know... 

I got back to the dormitories and sat down on my bed, sighing. There is sunlight pouring through the windows, the one closest to my bed still missing its padlock. Part of me wonders if I should really risk going out tonight. I don't know what adventure Sam has in mind for the evening, but we're bound to get in trouble. His head isn't in the right place and he's on a Hell path to destroy everything in his way at this place, which includes burning bridges for both himself and his brother. 

It hurts watching him go down this road to self-destruction. No one means more to Sam in the world than his Brother. For Nathan, he'd do some crazy shit... Including possibly killing Lonnie for the sake of protecting his brother, which in the long run would have been so much worse because Nathan would have been alone in here while Sam served in Juvy. Not a good combination.

Lena came back to the room shortly before dinner started. In her absence, I had done the math in my head and had figured out that there is now only four of us left in the room made for twelve. It wasn't fully stocked to begin with but now it feels far too empty and lonely. 

"What's on your mind, Hun?" She asked me as she dug through her bag, pulling out her Bible and leaving it at the end of her bed. 

I frown a bit, unsure of what exactly the problem is that's giving me this churning feeling of uncertainty in my gut.

"I don't know, to be honest..." I sigh, "Nothing feels right. Can't quite explain it."

"Is this about you and Sam?" Lena hedges curiously, having heard our past history. In my absence, Lena and Sam had become okay friends, having to work together to correlate information and to keep me informed while I was in the isolation ward. 

I sigh in defeat. "It's a lot of things, but to start, yeah... I wish Fran were here, she knew how to deal with this crap. I'm at a loss."

She looks thoughtful for a few minutes, taking time to rearrange her trinkets on her bedside table. "What's got you worried about him, hm?"

"I think he's gonna do something stupid that's going to end up hurting his brother." I reply slowly, hating that I even have to talk about this with anyone, hating that Sam has painted this huge target on his back. 

"What did he do?"

"He beat the crap out of Lonnie for bullying Nathan... And then mouthed off to the Sisters and Father Duffy."

"Shit..."

"Yeah." I sigh, running a hand through my hair before encountering the ratty braid in the back keeping it all restrained. "Should I say something to him or let it go? He seemed pretty pissed about the whole thing, and when I tried catching up with them afterward he sent me away. I'm not trying to take over or act like I know everything, but his anger definitely needs some work."

"I get where you're coming from - I do, but Missy, have you thought about things from his perspective? His whole family has been ripped away from him, his Mother passed away while his Father was gone on 'business trips' with other women, leaving those two young boys to take care of her, and afterward, they were ripped from their childhood home to move into a crummy apartment. Then after a few months of that instability, his Dad left them here. It's no surprise that he's acting out so much, read between the lines, he's just trying to do his best and keep things together."

I ponder her words in silence for a few minutes. "So what should I do?"

"Just be there for him to rant to. It'll do him a lot more good than punching windows and picking fights with the two-bit dipshits in this place."

I nod slowly, gaining a smile from Lena. "Chin up, it's not so bad."

"I'm just worried." I admit.

Her smirk warns me that more is to come. "And in love." She snickered, immediately causing my cheeks to burn bright pink. I hang my head in defeat. I could fight it or accept it, doesn't matter - Lena would know. 

"Tell me all of it."

"There's nothing to tell," I insist, shaking my head. "I like him, sure... Doesn't mean we're married or anything. And the last time my dumbass tried making a move, I was promptly friend zoned by Sam for it so no... I quite good, thanks."

"He friend zoned you?" She cackles, throwing her head back in laughter. I sigh, rubbing my hands together impatiently. "What the Hell did you do, Missy?"

I frown, feeling embarrassed by the memory that had been haunting me for the last month and a half. "The night of the storage house party, when I still partially drunken and drugged up, I tried kissing him when he brought me back to my dorm and was met with a firm 'I'm taken' statement in which he told me way too much about his on-again-off-again girlfriend, Crystal, whom he has been actively leaving the home to meet up with." 

"Damn..." She says, sounding more sympathetic this time, but not by much. Her shit-eating grin tells me otherwise. 

"Yeah, well, anyway..." I avert my gaze elsewhere, my thoughts running wild. I suppose that I could pull Sam aside tonight to have a chat with him but we will have to see how things go. 

Midnight came around and soon enough I found myself standing at the unlocked window, peering out into the quiet night, all the gothic structures across the estate bathed in the dusty dark purple light under the gleam of the full moon. These are the best nights to be adventuring on.

I double check to make sure I have everything I need before climbing out into the night and stealthily traversing the many decorative elements on the outside of the dormitory until I got down to ground level. 

I fix my cardigan and check around me to make sure I am alone before continuing, making my way through the maze of mostly empty buildings toward the main gate where I'd be meeting with Sam. 

I arrive first, and within fifteen minutes, I hear the scuffing of shoes on the cobblestone and turn to look, half expecting it to be a partially inebriated guard making his rounds, but Sam steps out of the shadows, Nathan in tow.

"Sam!" I hiss at him, "You're bringing Nathan?"

"Yes, why?" He replies in a semi-defensive tone.

"The kid's already in enough trouble and you're going to risk him getting caught by dragging him out there?" I point toward the gates. 

"It'll be fine." He replies, pushing past me and climbing up the elegant wrought iron gate. I turn toward Nathan who stands there awkwardly kicking at pebbles. "Hi, Nathan." I greet him with a stressed smile, becoming more and more annoyed with his older brother.

This is my first time on my own outside these gates. I'd never left the home at night, never had the guts to. I like to bend the rules to some capacity, but not to the point of blatantly endangering myself. Anything could happen to you out there, especially to a nieve, inexperienced runaway. 

Not to be a completely ungrateful person, but I had secretly hoped that my first time leaving the home would be more special and not hinging on Sam's anger and the secret mission he has planned.

Once we'd all climbed over the top, I briefly looked back at the windows warmly illuminated with orange light, wondering idly if they'd noticed our absence yet. 

"What are we doing?" I ask Sam, to which he pulled a small folded piece of paper from his jeans pocket and held it up for me to see between his index and middle finger, shaking it loosely to indicate its importance. I stare at it in blank confusion. 

"...A map?"

"No. A personal mission. We have to head to the downtown area."

He led the way, walking at a steady pace that both me and Nathan struggled to keep up with. He's much taller than the both of us, and covers ground much quicker. By the time we reached the busier part of town and were out of the residential district, I was beat. 

"What's the mission?"

"A little gift to the police station," He explains, eyes narrowed and concentrated on the task at hand. "I think the authorities would find the things going on inside those walls to be particuarly interesting so I feel it is my personal duty to throw them a tip."

"Doesn't that have a chance of ending badly?" I wonder nervously.

"Doesn't everything?" He retorts, shrugging. "They brought it upon themselves with their shitty way of handling things."

"Is it because of what happened to Nathan?" I ask in a hushed voice too low for our youngest compadre to hear.

"That's part of it. Also what happened to you, and Fran, and every other kid in that place."

I frown, thinking for a moment, confusion overcoming me. "Wait, did I miss something? What happened to Fran?"

His steps falter but he keeps moving. He glances at me briefly, keeping his silence and only aiding in growing my concern.

"Sam?"

"She told me I couldn't tell you. The night I helped her escape, she told me something that had happened to her there, and that it was just another reason she had to get away. I can't keep looking the other way, and neither can you."

I feel surprisingly conflicted by his choice to intervene. On one hand, it makes me proud to see him standing up for something like this, standing up for all those kids, even the shitty ones... Wanting to see things change for them because they don't deserve the abuse and neglect they receive. On the other hand, it is a slippery slope to get involved and not just leave well enough alone... The home could get shut down and all those kids will get scattered to the wind again.

"...Why didn't she tell me?" I wonder, feeling a pang of hurt. I'd known her longer, grown up around her, and considered her to be like a sister to me and she never even eluded to the fact that something had happened to her... But she went and told this boy she didn't even know about it. 

He shrugs, keeping his voice down and out of earshot of Nathan who was walking along, keeping to himself just a few feet away, prodding his sore jaw with his fingers, frowning at the pain. 

"I don't know," he admits, "but she wanted me to do this. For you, too. Even if nothing comes of it, maybe it'll be the kick in the ass they need to do a better job when they've got the authorities breathing down their necks."

At the end of the street, I can see the sign for the police station glowing ominously. There are lights on inside still.

"How are you going to do it? Just slip it under the door? Leave it in the mailbox?... Hand deliver it to one of the officers?"

"You'll see."

He warns me and Nathan to stay back while he walks up to the front door by himself. It makes me nervous immediately and I wonder if they'll recognize him as the runaway from a few weeks earlier. 

I stand there by Nathan's side, fretting the whole time, watching him through the windows. He'd timed it just right for when the secretary got up and walked into an adjacent room. That's when he went inside and set the note in the center of her desk.

He ran out a moment later. Of course, the cameras inside would have picked up on him leaving the note there, but with no one around to confront him on it or prod for more answers as to why he felt he needed to leave it there to ask for help, we are in the clear.

He bolts away from the building and grabs both mine and Nathan's hands, tugging us up the sidewalk to hide in the fringe of some bushes. We peek out, and a few moments later the secretary comes to the glass front door and peers out into the night, trying to spot the one who'd left the scrap of paper for her. 

"You did it." I laugh, out of breath and feeling shaky. It was more excitement than I needed for one night.


	13. Runaways

No one could have prepared me for the exhilarating feeling of being outside those walls. 

After we'd left the note, we ran off, laughing into the night. I felt invincible then, a smile on my face as we sprinted across empty parks, jumping benches and playing in the illuminated fountains surrounded by a dozen do not play in water signs. 

I lift my dress to keep the lace from dragging in the cold water, walking around in the spectacular glowing water. Nathan was already in the six-inch deep water, kicking up droplets with a grin on his face, his troubles momentarily forgotten. 

Sam sat along the edge of the pool, rolling up his jeans before dipping in his feet and yelping in surprise at the cold temperature. I laughed at him, stepping around in the water slowly, mesmerized by the way the submerged lights caught the ripples, sending glowing flickers of light across my skin. 

Under the full moon and sky full of stars, nothing felt impossible. The streets were fairly quiet, with some traffics moving back and forth. I was still very wary that someone would spot us and we'd be in trouble, but no one ever did. 

The trees scattered throughout the park were covered in small blossoms getting ready to bloom during the spring season. I hoped that we'd have the chance to return again once they had, to pick the blossoms and enjoy them before they'd dry up and blow away. 

Sam was still living on the high from the police station, wearing a grin on his face as he carefully crossed the pool toward Nathan, calling to him not to get his clothes all wet because the Sisters would sniff out that he'd left the home if he did. 

Nathan laughed, disregarding everything Sam had just told him by scooping up water in his palms and chucking it at Sam. 

Sam gasped in surprise, then glared at his brother. "Well played... You knew that I wouldn't splash you back because you'd go and get your ass sick."

Nathan cackled, proud of himself. I smile slightly, glad to see the brothers interacting in a way that was not protective or defensive. I hadn't seen much of the two together during my imprisonment, only each of them on their separate visits describing how their experience at the home had been thusfar. 

We laughed and screwed around in the water for a bit before getting out and walking the edge of the pool. I held my arms out at my sides as I balanced, the light from below dancing on the fabric of my skirt. 

"I've got something to show you that I think you'll like." Sam tells me when we're back to walking the streets. I look at him in confusion, waiting for him to further explain himself. 

He digs around in his pockets for a moment before producing a couple crunched up dollar bills. With a sly smile, he led the way to a convenience store with its neon lights glowing bright, chasing the shadows out of the parking lot. 

He pulled open the door and held it for me and Nathan as we ducked around his arm. 

"I imagine that you've probably never gotten to experience the fantastic experience that is picking out ice cream at a gas station." He says once we're standing in front of the freezer, being silently judged down the aisle from the man at the register that watches us with narrowed, suspicious eyes. 

"Nope..." I reply, shaking my head, taken back by all the colorful packaging on the other side of the frosted glass. 

Nathan wasn't waiting for us to make our decision, he ripped open that door and dug around inside until he'd picked out what he wanted. "Missy, you should try this!" He exclaims, thrusting a package into my face. 

I catch it before it falls to the floor, briefly looking at the packaging before smiling back at him, my heart filled with a warm fuzzy feeling that we had the chance to bond over something as stupid and simple as ice cream in a gas station. 

Sam went to the counter to pay for it, instructing us to go outside to wait. I nod in agreement, taking Nathan with me out to the empty parking lot. We were hanging out for a few moments before Sam came bolting from the store, the man from the register yelling out the door after him.

"RUN!" Sam shouted at us, arms full of ice cream, the angry cashier hot on his trail. I turn to Nathan, grabbing his hand and tearing off across the pavement with him close by my side. 

Sam jumped the hedged bordering the right side of the lot, narrowly missing the opportunity to trip. All I could hear was the man's booming voice shattering the quiet night with the words "Thief."

It struck me odd... I felt guilt for what Sam had done, but with the excitement burning in my veins from what we'd just experienced, it was short lived. 

We kept running until we were sure we'd lost him. We ducked into a small alleyway, breathing heavily, Sam laughing between breaths, an exhilarated smile on his face. 

Once things had calmed down a bit, he spoke. "Okay, so we're not exactly safe at the moment. He probably called the cops, and they'll likely be patrolling the neighborhood for three kids dressed in pastel blue."

"What are we going to do?" I breath, an excited smile on my face.

"Well, first and foremost, we're going to enjoy our spoils," He says, indicating to the stolen goods. "Then we're gonna keep low and ninja our way out of this area. I know someone in the next neighborhood who could hook us up with a change of clothes." 

I nod, it sounds like a good plan. We set up camp in the shadows by the dumpster, shooting the shit and enjoying the ice cream. The entire time, in the back of my mind, I kept imagining the man from the store, and began to feel bad about it again.

"Something wrong, Missy?" Nathan asks me, seeming to pick up on my guilty energy.

"Oh, I'm fine," I assure him, smiling at him slightly. "I'm just thinking about that guy... Did we have to steal?"

I redirect my gaze to Sam, but he shrugs. "It's not much," He reminds me, wearing a confident mask which makes me feel a little better about the whole thing. "He's pissed now, but by tomorrow he will have moved on."

"Won't the cops still be on the lookout for three runaways?"

"Probably," He shrugs, looking indifferent. "but we'll be back by dawn anyway when they come by the home looking for the culprits. No missing the mandatory blue uniforms issued by the St. Francis Home."

"Gotta love those team colors." I chuckle, tugging at the light blue skirt I wore. 

Red and blue lights flicker by the entrance of the alleyway as a police cruiser drives by. Sam hops to his feet, extending his hand toward Nathan to help him up, and then me. "Okay, it's time to split now. Nathan, you good at sneaking?"

Nathan gives him a confident nod and a wink, earning a proud chuckle in response from his brother. 

We get moving, peering out of the opening into the quiet street. Across the park on the other side of the road, we can see the cruiser making its rounds, shining a spotlight into every shadow.

"Well, that's a unique game changer." Sam breaths, placing one hand on Nathan's shoulder. "They're probably tired of us, little brother. Let's piss 'em off a bit more, shall we?"

Before we leave the alley, he fishes around in the dumpster and produces a carton of eggs, cradling it under his arm as we finally ventured out.

Sam led the way while I took up the rear, constantly looking back, worried that we'd somehow been spotted and it was all over in an instant. I kept tabs on where the cruiser was at all times, watching for the rotating red, white, and blue lights circling the park and adjacent roads. 

"You got a plan to go with those eggs?" I whisper to Sam, watching him remove one egg from the carton, rolling its smooth shell around in his palm. He threw a smile over his shoulder at me, nodding once in confirmation.

"Where are we going?" Nathan asks next.

"I know someone living in those apartments over there." He points to the dimly illuminated three-story brick buildings on the opposite side of the park where the cops were currently patrolling. 

"Is that what the egg is for?" I ask him in a flat tone, doubting him completely. He's just begging to get arrested if he wants to spend extra time out in the open to chuck an egg at the cruiser.

"Yep."

I feel a strange, nervous excitement as we dart from the shadows and across the street. I keep my eyes trained on the car and remain vigilant of the spotlight scanning the grass for the three thieves. 

"You're not going to go out of your way to use it, right?" I whisper to Sam, my head pounding while we're ducked down behind a large juniper bush. 

"I mean, if the opportunity arises, then great... If not, then that's fine, too." Sam shrugs, rolling the egg around in his hand. 

He signaled when it was clear and we took off running, a full-blown sprint across the dew-slick grass. I slipped and stumbled a few times, recovering quickly to shove Nathan ahead, herding him along to the other side of the park.

When we arrived, we were completely out of breath. Sam was laughing in exhilaration once we'd dived into the doorway of the apartment building. He peeked back at them, slowly making their way back. 

"Sam, don't." I tell him firmly, grabbing his arm.

He wound his arm back anyway, using his other arm to pin me and Nathan back against the wall in the shadows. 

"Sam," I hissed at him again. "You're going to get us caught. We're free to go."

He ignored me further, sticking his tongue out slightly in concentration while he waited for the cruiser to pass the front porch of the apartment building. When they were a few yards past, he chucked the egg. 

We all watched in a strange, horrified silence as it sailed through the air, sealing our doom. I was not waiting around for us to get spotted. I yanked open the front door of the apartment building and dragged Sam and Nathan in before the egg even made contact. 

Immediately after, we could hear the sirens turn on and Sam's laughter silenced. "Oh shit." He listened hard and we could hear boots coming up the stone steps.

"Now would be a good time to get moving." I urge him along toward the stairwell. "What room?"

"Room 24." Sam says, scooting Nathan up the stairs as the handle began to turn. We jogged up the steps, sometimes taking as many as three at a time. Nathan complained that he was getting tired, but kept pushing on. 

Up we went, climbing the stairwell as quickly as we could manage, reading the little bronze plaques on each new floor which read off which apartments were on them. 

"This one!" Sam called, grabbing my hand and Nathan's and ripping us off the stairs into a detour. We follow closely, out of breath and nervous but excited. I kept listening for the sound of feet climbing the stairs but could not discern their steps from our own. 

Within seconds, we found ourselves standing before room 24. Sam knocked once, firmly and loudly, and again within ten seconds, more aggressively as we could hear the voices in the stairwell. 

"Crystal!" Sam yelled, pounding harder on the wood, throwing a panicked look back at the doorway that led to the stairs, waiting for the officers to appear in the tiny window. 

Another few seconds passed before the door swung open, revealing a young, pretty girl glaring at us, looking exhausted. 

"Sam...? What are you-"

"No time to explain," Sam silenced her, ushering us all into her apartment for what was about to be the most awkward experience I could have imagined. This girl, who had no clue who I was, didn't even know how much I loved her boyfriend, who had brought us here to get us out of harms way... And while it certainly was not a love-driven act on his part toward me, I couldn't help but feel my heart fill with adoration that I mentally scolded. 

She closed the door behind us, listening hard when the men walked down the halls, speaking to each other. 

She turned her gaze back to Sam, pulling her lace robe tighter around her slender shoulders as she glared at him. "You brought the law to my doorstep?"

"It was a stupid mistake." He shrugged, laughing. Neither me nor Nathan were laughing... We just felt uncomfortable.

I was trying not to be rude or prying... I scanned the inside of her apartment briefly, finding it to be neat as a pin, decorated in a very girly fashion. The only thing I could assume is that she lives on her own. 

"Okay, well what brings you here at..." She paused to look at the analog clock on her TV stand. "3:34 AM?"

"We were out venturing and I decided to grab the cop's attention." He gestures to us. 

They broke out into a little squabble that only made me and Nathan feel even more uncomfortable. I placed my hands on his shoulders, looking elsewhere while they bickered in hushed voices. 

"Can we at least talk about this in private?" Sam asked in annoyance, and after a moment of Crystal scowling at him, she nodded. 

They went into an adjacent room and closed the door. Before she did, Crystal made eye contact with me, awkwardly mumbling to make ourselves at home. 

I sighed quietly after the door closed, looking around the inside of her small apartment before daring to walk further into her living room, walking to the big window she had on the north wall. We're almost on the top floor, and the apartment building is taller than most buildings in the area, so it gave a beautiful view of the cityscape around us. 

Everything around me felt breakable and untouchable, so I kept my arms crossed tightly across my chest. I looked back at Nathan, watching him sit down on her nice beige couch, looking around the room with the same uncomfortable confusion that I did.

"Do you know her?" I ask him, nodding toward the door where the two had disappeared. 

He shakes his head no. "Do you?"

"He's mentioned her a few times." I shrug, walking toward him to sit on the couch that touched cornered with the one he sat on. I lean forward, my elbows on my knees. "Her name is Crystal."

Recognition flickers in his eyes and he frowns. "Sam talks about her to me sometimes, too... He used to sneak out when we lived with our Dad to see her. I never met her, though."

"Quite the first impression." I breathe, looking around the room and at the stack of magazines sitting on the coffee table, covering the topics of home decor, makeup, and fashion... All things I am completely unfamiliar with. 

Nathan nodded slowly, averting his eyes to the floor, the moonlight coming through the window illuminating his bruised cheek. 

"How's that bruise?" I ask him softly, reaching toward him to brush a lock of his brown hair out of the way so I can inspect it better. I frown, looking at the purplish shade that had taken over the patch of skin on his left cheek.

"It's s'okay..." He says quietly in response, seeming to be reminded of its existence again. He reaches up to touch it, wincing at the tenderness. 

"Do you want some ice for it? Or some pain killers?"

He shakes his head, thinking for a moment before shaking no again. "I'm okay."

"Are you sure?"

He nods again. 

We sit in silence for a little bit. I look down at my hands and twiddle my thumbs for a bit before sighing. 

"Missy?"

"Yeah?"

"How old are you again?"

"I'm seventeen."

He ponders that in silence for a little bit.

"When is your birthday?"

"September 14th." I tell him with a slight smile. He nods in silence, thinking to himself.

"Do you remember much about your old family? What they were like? Sam said you've lived at the home almost your entire life."

I nod, thinking over what little I could recall of my old life. It feels so distant and foggy, like watching it back through muddy water, no details are clear but I can see the silhouettes of people, and the light around them, but cannot remember any distinctive details. 

"Not much," I admit with a small shrug. "I've lived there since I was three, and my memories are very limited."

"Do you wish that you could meet your family now?" He asks, but then looks like he immediately regretted asking, recoiling into himself again in silence. 

"It's okay to ask me anything, Nathan." I remind him, placing my hand on his shoulder. "I won't mind. You don't have to censor yourself around me. To answer your question, I honestly don't know... I can't remember enough about them to say either yes or no... But I think if I had the opportunity, I would say yes... Just so I could know for sure who my family was and where I came from."

"Do the Sisters know anything about where you came from? Did you ask them?"

"Better," I laugh quietly. "I broke into their archives and read my own file. All it said was that my family was located in North Carolina, and I was surrendered to the state by my Father, Richard Darcy Darabont. My Mother's name was Ellen Reed Darabont. Other than that, I don't know much else. There was no contact information for them... Nothing. I just have their names and a general idea of their location."

"Does it feel strange not knowing more?"

I shrug, "Yeah, I suppose... I've always been kinda curious to know more about my folks. To know if they ever had more kids, or if I were the only one. To know why they had to give me up instead of raising me themselves... It's a complete mystery to me."

"I wonder about that, too... With my Dad." He frowns. "I remember our family being really close when me and Sam were younger, but around the time Mom started to get sick, Dad distanced himself and was cheating on her. I guess it was too much for him to handle and it was just easier for him to be away."

"Seems like he didn't think about what he was leaving behind while he was gone." I say quietly, sympathizing with him. "I'm sorry for what you had to go through. Both for you and your brother."

"Thanks." He says, giving me a small, awkward smile. 

Before we can say much else, the bedroom door opens. Both me and Nathan look up as Sam walks out, followed by Crystal. All seems normal at first until I notice that her hair, which had been originally up in nice sleeping curls, are now a mess.

She looks embarrassed, but not enough to try and hide it too much. She looks me dead in the eyes for a moment before casting her gaze down, smiling slightly, cheeks flushing a dark crimson.

I look up at Sam, cocking my head at him in annoyance, narrowing my eyes at him him suspiciously.

"Okay, I've got us a change of clothes-" He begins, preparing to distribute the stack of clothes in his hands. I rise to my feet, placing myself between Nathan and him.

"Are you fucking serious right now?" I hiss at him in a low voice, too low for Nathan or Crystal to hear. "Are you being fucking real with me?"

"What's wrong?" He shakes his head in confusion and I resist the urge to smack the shit out of him. 

"We came all the way out here, not to have a nice evening, not to get in some friendly bonding... Not to get a change of clothes so we could get home... No..." I give him a dry, unamused smile. "We came here so you could fuck her." I sneer, jabbing an angry finger in her direction.

My glare passes him to focus on her. She's gorgeous, it's not shocking that he'd fallen for her and had defended her so fiercely. Her hair is almost a golden shade, and naturally wavy in those Kennedy-era curls. I envy her, her freedom to dress and look how she wanted, being able to walk around in her home in her sheer nightclothes and lace robes while I was condemned to my shitty itchy blouse buttoned to my neck and the long ass skirt and ugly damn shoes to match... My long hair restricted in the braid at all times, casting out in a frizzy mess in all directions if I dared take it out. 

My jealousy flares up looking at her, and I have to remind myself of the real problem at hand. "You brought us along for what? So I could babysit your poor brother while he sat uncomfortably in this hussy's home?"

"Missy, knock it off." He says in a low voice, giving me a warning look. "We're in her house, please be respectful."

"Of course you'd do this." I mutter, gesturing for Nathan to get up, taking his hand in mine. "I don't understand you!" I whisper harshly, "If you want your love life, fine! But keep it to your fucking self, okay? I couldn't give two shits who you're fucking, stop flaunting it for the world to see."

"Missy-"

"Leave it." I snap at him, embarrassed and angry. I tow Nathan along with me, yanking open the door and stepping out into the hall. "Take your time, I know how to get home." I meet his eyes in the dimly illuminated room. "I'll take care of Nathan. You do you."

I close the door behind us, unable to face him anymore. I feel angry and hurt, trying my hardest to conceal it as we make our way toward the stairs.

"Are you okay?" Nathan asks quietly as we descend, our footsteps clattering down each step in unison. I take a deep breath, reaching up with my spare hand to wipe away the moisture rimming my eyes. 

"As okay as I can be," I breathe, deciding to be honest with him.

"Did Sam hurt you?"

"Yeah... He did." 

"Did he hit you?" Nathan asks, a protective edge to his voice. The poor kid had been tuning out the entire time, trying to ignore what was going down.

I shake my head, trying to control my breathing so it does escalate into a full-scale sobbing jag. "Sometimes people hurt other people in a different way."

"I know..." He replies thoughtfully. "So he hurt your feelings?"

I nod sullenly as we reach the ground floor, looking around to make sure we're alone before heading toward the front door to the complex, tugging on my sweater to tighten it around my body to defend me from the breeze outside.

"How so?"

"You've got a lot of questions tonight, kid." I laugh, but it just sounds pained and it reflects how I feel. We jog down the front steps of the apartment, headed north in the direction of Main Street. 

"Missy?"

"Yes, Nathan?"

"Do you love my brother?"

His words send a surge of pain through my chest. I'm tempted to reach up and cradle the space where my aching heart resides inside my chest. In the darkness of the streets, my tears flow freely down my cheeks where Nathan cannot see them. I blink hard and quickly, but that only sets them free. 

"Of course. He's very special to me." I say, deflecting the true meaning of his question.

Nathan pulls his hand back, but not away from mine. I look down at him and realize that he has stopped walking and has planted himself in place. He holds on tightly to my hand, looking up into my eyes, seeing all the pain that is surely visible in them. 

For a twelve-year-old, he's tall... Only a foot shorter than me. 

"I mean, do you love my brother?"

I don't respond, I just breathe slowly while looking around at my surroundings in the vacant streets. 

"It'll stay between us," He promises. "I won't tell Sam, if that's what you're worried about."

I look back down at him, and he's extended his hand toward me, his pinky out. I stare at it for a moment, having a debate back and forth in my mind. Telling him could ruin everything... There's the small chance that he does end up telling Sam and then I am screwed again. Then again, I think I already screwed over that secret when I decided to call his girlfriend a hussy in her own home.

"I promise, Missy. I won't tell."

I take a deep breath and then sigh in defeat, hooking my finger with his and shaking it once. I wipe under my eyes again, taking another deep breath before speaking, my voice coming out low and groggy.

"Okay... Yeah... I do."

"Really?" He asks, grinning at me, excitement twinkling in his eyes. It breaks my heart a bit as I wonder idly if he'd ever witnessed anyone really loving his shithead brother. 

I nod once, watching the stars light up in his eyes at this news. "Like girlfriend/boyfriend love?"

"If the feelings were ever mutual, yeah."

"Wait... Sam doesn't feel the same?" His excitement falters a bit and it breaks my heart some more.

I look back at Crystal's apartment building and shake my head slowly, looking down again. "No. He loves Crystal. Who am I to split them up? What kind of person destroys a thriving relationship like theirs? I'd be heartbroken if I were her and lost someone like him. Sam's got his fair share of shitty issues, but don't we all? I cannot deny that he is one of the sweetest boys I've ever met."

"Isn't that a good enough reason to tell him?" Nathan demands, calling after me when I start walking again, trying my hardest to tune out all his plan making and pleading in the background. 

"No," I shake my head. "I'll be damned if my one role in life is being a homewrecker."


	14. The Adventures of Morgan and Darabont

"I don't think Sam loves her." Nathan says, refusing to let our conversation go. We'd walked several blocks already, keeping an eye out for that cruiser and him bringing it up every two minutes again. Every time I'd look down at his eyes, I'd see that hope glowing in his blue irises... A hope long dead to him, the prospect of seeing someone in his family happy.

I know Sam means the complete world to him. Seeing him drag on through life each day to protect Nathan has surely been a difficult thing for Nathan to watch. 

"What makes you think that?"

"I think they just screw around together. He's never taken her on a date."

I gasp in surprise, laughing immediately. I guess I'd gotten it in my head that Nathan is still too young to know any of this stuff, but that's definitely not the case. The kid knows more than I've given him credit for. 

"Has... Sam ever been in love with anyone?" I ask him, burying my hands in the pockets of my cardigan, looking away awkwardly, trying my hardest to not seem like it's a big deal to me. 

"I mean... He had crushes when he still went to school, but he never really dated anyone. Unless you count him fruitlessly pining after all the girls that went to his school." Nathan shrugs thoughtfully. 

I nod slowly, keeping up a steady pace, looking up and searching for the towering spires of the home on the horizon of the city skyline. When I did spot it in the distance, my heart sank a bit. It's a sad indication that the mostly-fun evening is coming to an end. 

"What about you?"

"What about me?" 

"Have you ever loved anybody?"

I frown and shake my head, kicking a pebble across the sidewalk, listening to the low thud when it collided with a trashcan a few feet away. "No... No one ever caught my eye in the home, and I was always too scared to do anything about it. Do you know my friend Fran?"

He nods.

"She was like me... For a while. Then she met Liam, one of the boys from your dorm. They connected instantly, and things led from one thing to another, and now look at her... On the run, pregnant, and not knowing what lies ahead. That prospect always terrified me. I could never do it."

"So even if my brother did like you back, you wouldn't do anything about it?" He asked, quirking an eyebrow at me suspiciously.

I nod, shrugging a bit. "I'm not brave enough to pursue what my heart wants."

"But you're brave enough to sneak out nightly to do things that would be highly frowned upon by the sisters?" He challenged with a sly smirk. I chuckle, punching his shoulder playfully. 

"No one told me I'd have my own jabberbox bird when you two showed up."

He laughs, but persists. "Why, though? What makes being in love scarier than running on rooftops?"

I think about it for a moment, feeling a bit put on the spot. "Well, when you're running and jumping, there's only two possible outcomes. Either you'll jump and make it to the other side, or you don't. You know that one way or another, it's going to end exclusively in one of those two ways. When you love someone and give your heart away, you don't know what will happen. Maybe they'll love you, maybe they won't... Maybe they'll love you for a long time and then leave you, or maybe something else will happen. It's the unknown that scares me." 

"Me, too." He admits.

"Really? What about it?"

He shrugs, looking ahead thoughtfully. "It never used to, until my Mom died and me and Sam have bounced around from place to place. It got to the point where we never knew what to expect. Never knew who we'd be staying with for the night, whether it'd be our Dad or a relative, or if we'd have an apartment to call home by the end of the week. The last three years of mine and Sam's life has consisted of frequent moves and uncertainty."

"So there was never any stability to your life?"

"There hasn't been in a long time." He says. I look at him for a long moment, looking down at this kid barely pushing his early teens and having already seen way too much of the bad parts of life to decide that he can trust no one. 

"Okay... So let's pretend for a moment. If you could live any life you wanted, twenty years from now, what would it be? What would you be doing?"

"Anything?"

"Anything!"

He thinks about it in silence as we walk along. At this point, we're walking along the harbor near the bridge dividing our side of town from the other half... The more lively, city life half. Within a few moments, Nathan has an answer for me. 

"I'd want to go on adventures, I think. Sam told me that when we're older, we should go after the things our Mom was researching and finish her work."

"Is that what would make you happy?"

"Yes... I think so. I think it would make Sam happy, too... He's always ranting about how he hates it here, maybe he'd be happier to live somewhere else. He said you could come with us, too."

"Yeah, he told me about that last night... I'm in."

"Really?"

"Yep, got nothing more pressing calling my name. And to tell you the truth, I have no clue what the rest of my life holds. It's a vast, open ocean of unknown things and great stories to be told. I just have to pursue it."

Nathan completely lights up then, launching into his theories, his dreams, and all his ideas. I listen in silence, carefully taking in everything he is saying. Something tells me that he frequently gets overpowered by Sam when it comes to this stuff. Sam is a complete showoff who's sole job seems to be finding ways to outshine everyone else. 

He talks about different countries and tribes in the Incan culture and even touches on the topics of his theories about Sir Francis Drake which Sam had also introduced to me on his first visit once I'd gotten out of the hospital weeks ago. 

Watching Nathan ramble on about all these things warmed my heart, chasing out the shadows of fear and doubt placed there after my argument with Sam. Nathan is an absolutely brilliant kid. 

The occasional car passed us on the street, none of them paying any mind to us, oblivious to the fact that we were runaways from the local children's home. 

It feels really weird walking with Nathan, and it feels me with the strangest feeling of being an older sibling, something I'd never gotten to experience for myself or in my friend group. Between Lena, Fran, and me, I was always the babied one. The one that would be cradled and cared for while Lena and Fran posed as my protectors. I feel as though I have seamlessly slipped into the role like second nature.

I smile proudly to myself as we walk, getting an excited bounce in my step as we go.

"This is your first time out of the home, right?" 

"Yes, why?"

"How did you know the way back?" Nathan wonders in confusion, looking at the clock tower glowing in the distance.

"Memory," I say, winking at him and tapping my temple. "I spend a lot of my free time memorizing the layout of the home, it wasn't much harder to keep track of all the turns we made and keeping track of the general direction we traveled in."

"Now that you've been out, do you think you'll leave more often?... Or permanently like Fran did?"

I think about it, he's presented me with a real question that up until then had not crossed my mind. "I don't know... I might leave on occasion, but I don't know if I'm ready to throw myself out of those gates just yet. Just being on the streets tonight has been an absolute shock to the system. I've never gotten to experience the town up close like this. Only ever from a distance with a dozen chaperones hanging around me."

"Well... When you do go, can I come with you?"

"What do you mean?"

"I want to go adventuring at night like you and Sam. Sam always makes me stay behind, he always says it isn't safe or me or a place for kids but I'm not really a kid, you know? I can do what you guys do."

"I don' know, Nathan... Anything can go wrong when you leave your room at night. That's what you have to be prepared for above all else."

"But I would be!" He insists, grinning at all the possibilities he is imagining. "And then soon I could be just like you and Sam."

On one hand, it warms my heart that I inspire him enough that he'd want to do that, but on the other, even though he'd be starting long after I did age-wise, I still can't help feeling concerned for him. Worried that he'll end up getting hurt trying to follow our example.

"Maybe stick to the rooftop visits for now, bud." I laugh quietly, ruffling his brown hair, making him wince but laugh. 

We get back to the gates and I check around, watching for the guard. When it's clear, I give Nathan a boost and he begins climbing the elegant wrought iron designs, dropping onto the other side to watch my back while I follow him over.

"Do you think Sam will be okay to get back on his own?" Nathan asks in a hushed, worried voice. I land on the cobblestone by his side and nod, sighing a bit. "If anyone can survive out there, it's him. He'll be fine. Let's get you back to your room."

He groans in protest immediately. "Aw, no, Missy! Let me stay up a little longer, please? Can't we just explore some more?"

I look into his wide, pleading eyes and shake my head, imagining that at some point this was probably Sam pleading with his parents. Look at him now. Someday it won't be as simple as just letting him stay awake a little longer.

"Okay... Sure. I've got something to show you that I think you'll really like."

I take him to the fountain at the eastern courtyard, which is, in my opinion, the most beautiful on the property. I know already that he has not seen it since the fountain is located on the property of the girls' wing. Not even Sam would dare venture that far over just to look at some architecture... Though, he'd probably to it to steal some peeks through the girls' window during changing time, the creep. 

Nathan keeps asking for hints during the entire journey, each time he is met with me hushing him and reminding him of the guards. He took this very seriously and soon adopted a ninja pattern of walking which included him throwing himself against the stone walls and peering around corners sneakily looking for guards. 

I know that by this point, he has already seen a number of fountains tonight and played in his fair share of them, but I like to think that these ones are a bit cooler because they're so old and unique.

Once Nathan catches glimpse of the lights reflecting off the gently rippling water, he tears off across the grass and stone to get a closer look. 

I walk slower, watching him admire the history-filled sculptures of the zodiac figures carved in marble, all elegantly entangled throughout the display. I look around us occasionally, keeping an eye our for us while Nathan is occupied with his latest discovery. 

The one of Aquarius pouring water is my favorite part of the ensemble. I look up at it in silence, taking in his placid expression before turning to search for Nathan to make sure that his excitement hadn't gotten the better of him and he'd fallen in already. 

That's when I spot him staring up at the wall. I frown and walk over, unable to recall from memory what might be carved there of interest. 

I stand by his side and look up at the rough carving of ancient script. The words form an unfamiliar quote.

"You know this one?"

"Maybe..." He breathes in response, preoccupied with reading it. "Sam would probably know the era."

"You sure spend a lot of time learning about this stuff... You must have read a lot of books growing up or something."

Nathan nodded, not breaking eye contact from the sculpted relief below the faded words on the face of the stone. "My Mom had a large collection of history books in our old house. Me and Sam would spend a lot of our time in their reading when we were younger. When Sam got into his teen years, he started spending more time out of the house, so I kept doing it myself."

I feel sadness for him... Sadness for this boy that I hardly know and the life he had to leave behind and all the people who did the same to him. I purse my lips, looking from the carving and back to his face. His excitement has fallen away now.

"Everything okay, Nathan?"

"I think I'd like to go back to my room, now." He replies quietly. "I'm tired."

I am doubtful that that is the full reason why he is suddenly withdrawn. I nod and quietly escort him back. He is silent for the most part on the way back except for the occasional one-off question, which I oblige and answer as best as I can. 

"Goodnight, Nathan." I tell him as he slides back through the open window into the boy's dormitory. He smiles back at me, closing the window behind him. Once he has disappeared into the shadows of the hallway, I make my way back to my own side of the property, looking up at the clocktower, seeing that the time is just after six AM. To the horizon, there's the slightest tickle of orange sunlight beginning to pick away at the heavy purple clouds. 

I'd stayed up all night, and would certainly be regretting it tomorrow when I'm dragging ass to my classes. Still, I don't feel tired enough to actually go and try to sleep. My anger had faded, leaving behind a numb shell of confusion and hurt that I don't know what to do with. 

I pace the rooftop underneath the clocktower, my hands in my pockets, my braid undone, loose strands of blonde gently swaying in the slight breeze. I am busy thinking over all the things we'd done tonight when I hear the scuffing of shoes on the gravel of the roof and instinctively dive into the shadows to hide, but I'd already been spotted by my shadow.

"Wow, done already?" I ask him dryly as he approaches, looking a bit frustrated. "Would have thought you were one of those ones who could go all night, but no, you one of those one and done kind of guys, right?" 

I know I'm being a dick, but at this point, I don't really care. 

"Do tell me more about how your beloved Crystal is doing because the good Lord knows how much I love hearing about your friend with benefits. It's a truly enlightening experience, and I am so glad that we have this great bond where you always have to dangle your sex life over my head." 

He sighs, hanging his head, strands of his dark brown hair falling into his eyes and stealing my breath away again. I yell at my heart inside my head, scolding it for getting off topic so easily. I want to be angry with him, but that one organ is a fucking traitor to me. 

"Missy-"

"If you've come crawling back here to tell me that it's not what you meant to happen, then you can-"

"MICHELLE!" Sam snaps, a vein sticking out in his forehead as he scowled at me, eight feet between us and an ass load of uncomfortable tension. I huff a deep breath and cross my arms tightly across my chest, gesturing for his pushy ass to say his piece. 

"Look, I'm sorry for what happened tonight, and I swear to you that it was not my intentions setting out. Shit just led me there and it happened, okay? I don't know what else you want me to say about it."

"Your fucking twelve-year-old brother was right there the entire time while you two were in her room screwing! The poor kid's been through enough without having to sit in a place that makes him uncomfortable, with a woman he's never met, listening to the bang of her headboard during every silence. For fucksake, Sam! There's a fuck ton of better times to do that crap." 

"I'm sorry!" He snaps in exasperation, throwing his hands into the air, pacing away from me. 

"Dammit, Sam, being sorry doesn't just fix things!"

"Nathan'll be fine, alright? He will be and things will go on. Why can't you let it go?" He accuses, marching back toward me, jabbing a finger in my direction. I narrow my eyes at him, knowing right away why I can't but I also can't just say that shit to his face. 

"I care for Nathan. I can't just sit back and watch you fuck him over like this. There's a time and a place to do what you did. It was supposed to be a simple in and out thing, get the change of clothes, hide from the cops, done... But of course, you'd want to make the most of the time." 

"What the fuck else do you want me to say about it?" He yells, his voice echoing off the stone around us, making me shrink back from it. I narrow my eyes at him, feeling my anger evaporating slowly, its power shrinking back in the fear of his outburst.

"Is this about you and your feelings?" He asks, frustrated and out of breath. "I thought we were past this! I thought we were good." 

"Sam..." I sigh angrily, shaking my head. "It'll never be good. It'll never be okay... I can't just make myself hate you just like you can't just make yourself love me. Okay? I feel the way I feel and I hate it! I wish it would go away, I wish I could look at you and not see everything else but a friend. I wish that I could think of every night you came and visited me and not remember how each of those nights I looked at you when you weren't looking and imagined my entire life with you in it. I can't help how I feel and it really fucking sucks. I'm sorry, okay? I'm not over it, I'll never be over it, and the only way to remedy it is to keep our distance. I tried working past it, but that doesn't work and it never will."

He looks completely dumbstruck and blindsided by my comment. 

"For your sake and mine, please just... Keep your distance. Go have your happy relationship, but please just keep me out of it. I don't want to know. As for Nathan, he's your brother, it's your decision... But be more considerate of him next time?"

I turn to leave, unable to face the mess I'd made just now. Sam called out to me before I could put down too much distance between us.

"Missy, wait!" 

I hesitate, but I don't stop. "No, Sam. I have nothing left to say. I've said my piece, and that's it. I can't find peaceful ground with you where I feel completely happy. It pains me to see you with someone else, and quite honestly I'm tired of your games on my emotions. You knew how I felt, and you still made me go to that place. For what? To show her off? To prove to me that you're not interested in me? Well congratulations, you sent that point straight home. I got the message, loud and clear. No more us, no more sneaking out together, no more friendship. My heart can't take it anymore."


	15. Hate Me

The week passed with nothing from Sam. I almost thought that he'd run away again after the first four days of not seeing him, but then I spotted him and Nathan walking to their next class together across the courtyard and it was enough to ward off that rumor and to put my mind at ease. He may not be my favorite person at the moment, but it doesn't mean I want him off doing something stupid.

To help me sever the ties, I also had to distance myself from Nathan, which I knew was also hurting him. He'd met my eyes a couple times in the halls when Sam was not with him and he'd frown and look away. I guess Sam had given him the news of our 'separation'.

I know it hurts him that me and Sam aren't friends anymore. He completely lit up that night at the possibility of us being together, and he kept encouraging it. Things had literally changed in an instant and I worry that I've just shaken his somewhat stable world again.

Of course, I didn't let the fracture stop me from doing what I always did. I still snuck out at night, but I no longer went to the clocktower because I knew he'd look for me there and I did not want to talk with him. Instead, I sat on the rooftop of the girls' dormitory among the gargoyles and pensive angel carvings looking up at the moon and pondering life while sighing aggressively and wondering if I'd made the right decision to send him away. The jury's still out on that one.

I kept my head down during the day, working my hardest to get my school work done on time and done correctly. It was enough to navigate the unwanted spotlight of attention from the Sisters away from me. Since the incident, they'd been keeping a close eye on me to see if I'd cave under the pressure and have a mental breakdown. I did not, at least not one they could see. If they'd witnessed my screaming match with Sam, they might feel differently.

I talked to Lena daily, and she was great. She let me rant and ramble about whatever was bothering me, giving me the chance to get it off my chest. I could go on for hours about everything... Sam, Fran, oblivion, all of it... What was I even going to do once my eighteenth birthday comes around and the kick me out on my ass? I'd have nowhere to go, I know no one out there.

I was counting down to it. With us sitting pretty in the middle of May, and my birthday being the second week of September, it does not present a lot of time for me to make my decisions, nor are there any resources for me to get things figured out.

My stress had led to a few afternoons spent in Father Duffy's office, explaining to him the worries of me moving out and eventually pursuing my own life. He gave me his standard copy/paste wisdom which only angered me more.

That first week turned to many, and soon, it had been a month since I'd spoken to either of the Morgan boys, and as much as I hated to admit it, I missed them both.

It was mid-June when I decided to return to the clocktower at night. I know Sam still comes out in the dark... There were a few nights when I'd be sitting atop of the roof of the girls' dormitory and I'd see his silhouette jumping roofs and getting down to the ground, scrambling over the gates and leaving the property to be with her.

The first night I came back to the clock tower after my month-long absence, he did not show up and it was a relief to me. I was split in two about him, part of me wanted to talk to him again and reconcile, and the other half wanted nothing to do with his brand of trouble. It made me sick sometimes when I couldn't just be at peace about it.

"Why don't you just talk to him? Come back to middle ground? At least then you won't have the guilt eating at you every day. You don't even have to maintain the relationship afterward, just apologize and move on. He's a big boy, he'll be fine." Lena told me over lunch.

I was slowly pulverizing a lettuce leaf on my plate with my fork, forehead creased in deep concern and thought. I know he's a big boy and will get over it... But will I? Knowing that I caved first and came crawling back to apologize.

"You're going to kill over with all this stress. Seriously, just talk it out with him, you'll feel better afterward."

I ignore her comment. "Have you talked to him or Nathan?"

She hesitates for a moment, a nervous tick I'd become accustomed to over the years. Yes, she had.

"You did." I accuse, laughing slightly, but not in amusement, but in betrayal. It's stupid for me to be mad over something so trivial, but when I went on this anti-Sam strike, I expected her to follow my example.

"He's talked to me a few times in the hall... But I shouldn't tell you what he said, you'll just get all up in the air about it again." She says, shrugging as she gets up and collects her trash to go throw it away.

I frown. She's not wrong... I keep promising myself over and over that nothing would be enough to shock me back into being concerned, but I'm always let down when my heart deviates each time, sprinting full-force against my ribcage at the mere mentioning of his name.

"I'd be happy to not know." I sigh, dropping my fork and leaning back in my chair, staring blankly at my tray.

"I think you secretly do want to know because I think you secretly care." She says as she picks up her things, getting ready to leave. She throws me one last look before departing.

"I not-so-secretly don't care what you think." I mumble as she walks away, sighing and getting up from my seat. I let her words fester in my head during class while I wasted time tapping my pencil eraser against the paper of my work, looking up at the clock every now and again to document the passing of each minute.

It was near the end of the school day when I decided that tonight, I would once again climb to the roof to wait by the clocktower. Sooner or later, he would show up... Or so I believed.

It's infuriating to not even understand yourself. I want him gone from my life, I know it in my soul and feel it in my bones... Yet, the temptation of forgiving him and moving on with our friendship as we had before looks so tempting. I just enjoy self-torture, I guess.

When midnight came around, I ascended to the roof and sat on the stone edging, swinging my legs over the world below, looking out at the vast sea of gothic buildings crushed together into the horizon, the soft sound of the breeze blowing through the trees filling my head. 

It's been over a month since I'd last spoke to Sam on this very roof, and it was not on good terms. I'm conflicted on how to deal with things going forward. Nothing I said was a lie, per-se, but the softness of the verbal delivery left something to be desired. I just want the opportunity to try and set things right again.

I still hold firm on the original reason that I separated us in the first place. We cannot be friends anymore, at least not on the terms set in place. It hurts me too deeply to be near him, listening to him ramble on about how great Crystal is. It's not that I'm not happy for him, I am, I just get sick of hearing about her incomparable greatness like she is a golden idol for him, a bright beacon on a dark night.

I sit there in silence for a while, listening for the scuffing of shoes kicking stray pebbles across the roof behind me, but it never comes. I sigh and hang my head in guilt, doubting myself and feeling angry about the whole thing again. It's a wound that time should have healed already, but with things left on such bad terms I just can't get on with life. I can't recall another time in my life when I was this shitty of a human being to someone else, even someone who deserved it. 

When the clocktower announces the beginning of 3:00 am, I get up and go back to my room.

The following day provides a turn of events for me. Once everyone had gathered in the lunchroom for breakfast the next morning, the events director took the opportunity to share that he'd be splitting off all the kids into two groups to come participate in PE classes on the grass courts at noon.

When noon did come around, we all stood out in the sweltering heat in our activewear which was surprisingly free to move around in, and not as conservative as the modest uniforms the girls wear daily. I've spent my whole life here, and I must admit that activewear is one of the few perks, albeit you have to get past the idea that many other kids have worn it before you.

I stood there, arms crossed tightly across my chest beside Lena while the volunteer coach that had come from the local high school to work with us yelled his announcements and the rules over the buzz of chatter from the crowd.

I allowed my gaze to wander, searching the sea of faces for no one in particular, just taking stock of who is left these days... When a kid is adopted, no one really knows it happened until we start to notice their absence. There are a few faces I don't see.

Among those in attendance, though, are the Morgan boys... All decked out in the pale blue t-shirts and running shorts. Sam looks particularly uncomfortable while Nathan just looks unimpressed by everything, arms crossed, narrowed blue eyes scanning. 

I peel my gaze away before he has the chance to meet it. I feel so conflicted about how to deal with things. I've already said all that I have to say, and honestly, don't feel like I need to stick a band-aid on it to make him feel any better about it. It's mostly just me missing them both that has me getting wishy-washy and doubtful of myself now.

"Any other questions?" The coach calls out, scanning the crowd carefully for any raised hands. "Alright. Mr. Wright will be separating you all into two teams."

The entirety of the foster home would not be able to participate all in one sitting... There'd be too many of us, it'd be like marching soldiers to war. They split up the population with plans of doing group A (us) today, and group B (them) tomorrow. Of course it's just my luck that Sam and Nathan ended up on this side of the fence. I'd do my best to avoid them until I am ready to confront them and know what I am going to say.

The man named Mr. Wright took leadership of the audience. "Alright, if your last name starts with A-M, go to that group there... If it starts with N-Z, this one here."

He made his rounds, carefully watching our progress as we scrambled into groups. Lena came with me, both of us fortunate to have our last names in the first few letters.

We were standing aside confidently for a few minutes before Lena had a revelation that sank my heart. "Hey... What are the odds? M is the last letter for this group before the cut-off point."

"What do you mean?"

She nods toward something behind me, prompting me to turn part way to see what she meant. That's when I spot the pair, standing off to the side, minding their own business.

"Morgan's are on our team." Lena concludes with a wink.

I groan and hang my head. I'd done pretty well thus far avoiding them in the public environment... But today... Oh, today... I'd have to face them both again.

I keep my back to them, but after a while I can feel the stares burning into my back, making me feel self-conscious and tempted to turn around just to see if they are actually looking at me or not.

The game is soccer... That shit should be easy enough, right? No chance for awkward confrontation or collision? I'd be wrong.

The coach blew the whistle and the grassy lawn became a place of war and chaos. We don't get to do stuff like this often, so on the rare occasion when we do, all that pent up barbaric energy comes out in one swoop so you best watch your ass to keep from getting run into the ground by the big, burly boys who have their eyes on the prize and are in the mood for some violent competition.

The mixture of girls and boys on each team triggered complete chaos as they scrambled across the grass in the hot sun, chasing the little black and white soccer ball that looked like it was actually trying to escape, rolling toward freedom within one of the goals.

"Look alive, Darabont."

I flash a look to my left while trying to avoid getting whacked in the process. Sam is cackling, Nathan is long gone, chasing after the enemy team in hopes of aiding a goal.

"I'm biding my time-" I tell him, quickly sidestepping out of the way to avoid my foot getting stepped on. There are way too many kids playing to make this game manageable in any capacity.

"To do my part." I finish, focusing hard on the soccer ball tearing across the grass, a whole hoard of kids after it as though it were a freshly printed 100$ bill blowing in the wind.

I dart forward, ducking under the swinging arm of Leon Thompson, skidding across the grass on my ass to kick it as hard as I can manage.

The awkward kick combined with the momentum of my slide sent the ball flying back in the direction of the enemy goal. The kids from our team took the opportunity to double back and to kick it through the goal.

Breathing heavily and wiping grass debris off my backside, I turn to grin at Sam. "Told you." I murmur, lifting a hand to my forehead to create the universal sign for loser.

The whistle blows and the coach calls for the teams to get back to their sides of the field. My brief moment of stardom is not rewarded the way I had imagined with people flooding around me, cheering me on and congratulating me. I hardly got an appeased glance from the other boys. They were mostly just angry that it wasn't them serving the winning shot.

Despite this, I felt the pride swelling in my chest, this great feeling that I'd done something that in my mind was pretty fricken cool, and I knew Sam had seen it, too. And petty as it is, it swelled my chest with pride and satisfaction, and I milked it for all I could, doing the this is what you could have had nonchalant strut while pretending to be fully committed to the game still.

Yes, I am playing things up a bit much, but I get my revenge where I can.

I know that our separation had certainly formed some kinks here and there... And I suppose I am being pretty petty right now by going out of my way to try and prove what a badass I am to him like it'll change his mind any. He may have spoken to me today, but it doesn't mean that we're on good terms, or that he even thinks I'm anything but crazy now.

The soccer ball came hurtling toward us, a girl on the other team by the name of Ashton was leading the charge this time. She is pretty tall for a girl, and using it to her advantage, darting out ahead of the others and being able to see what lies ahead before making her move.

I cast a quick look to my left at Sam, who has concentrated fully on the mission at hand, bracing himself for his million dollar move. I look ahead to how the ball is coming toward us, and I see an opportunity to steal the move from him, and rob him of his sunshine.

I must admit that I was pretty tempted to go through with it, to wound his ego some more and keep on prancing around the grass like a prized peacock, but I have a better plan in mind. I'd toy with his heart and mind the way he had mine.

I give him his opportunity to prove himself, to pull off the ultimate badass move that would make everyone gasp. (To be honest, it wasn't that big of a deal, but the amount of effort put into it was impressive)

He pretended to have no interest in the game until the ball was about to pass to his right, then he bolted, a blur of movement as he ran for it, swinging out his leg like it was a golf club and kicking it hard.

It reverted back, slinging back into the hoard that was busy chasing it toward our goal just behind me. I lost sight of it in the crowd, but when I threw a look to Sam, his face was lit up with the satisfied grin I'd missed.

In that instant, I hated it. I hated that it warmed my heart to see it again, just seeing that stupid smile on his face was enough to have me standing there in self-doubt... And enough to distract me so I wouldn't see the soccer ball hurtling through the air toward my face.

The next instant I was lying flat on my back, seeing stars and nearing the end, or so I thought from the fuzzy black encroaching on my vision. The thoughts of Sam slipped away as the pain I felt in my face became more obvious.

"Missy!"

Someone's hands were on my shoulders, and they were partially crouched over me. I blinked, but couldn't see much else in my daze but their silhouette backlit by the bright summer sun.

"Nathan, grab her legs."

Oh, kill me now.

I feel myself being peeled off the grass, the sticky green sprigs leave my skin. I keep blinking, praying for my vision to return so I could at least see to drag myself away.

"You're going to get crushed out here," Sam laughs quietly in my ear, hooking his hands under my armpits and lifting me high enough off the ground to drag me away. I groan in defeat as him and Nathan work together to get me out of the warzone, me reaching up to cup my sore face the entire time, groaning dramatically.

I'm relieved when I don't feel the slick stickiness of blood on my skin, so I didn't get a bloody nose at least... My entire nose and right cheek feel numb from the sharp slap of where the soccer ball had connected with my skin.

I try and open my eyes wider, and it works a little bit to chase off the darkness to the outer edges of my vision, but not enough to completely give back my vision.

"Maybe pay attention next time." I hear, and realize that it is Nathan speaking to me. I groan and roll over onto my side, digging my fingers into the soil and grass, struggling to regain a sense of my surroundings.

Within another few minutes, my vision clears and I roll onto my back again to stare up at the sky. I allow my gaze to deviate, and it falls on Sam's face. At first he looked worried, his brow pinched up in concern... Then it falls away to a smug smile that I just want to smack off his face.

I push myself up into a sitting position, ignoring his and Nathan's protests and objections and the pounding headache in my own skull in favor of getting up and leaving. I get to my feet but sway like a deer just learning how to walk.

Nathan grabs my arm to steady me and I don't have it in my heart to shake him off and stalk off so I just stand there and sigh in defeat.

"What's going on here?" demands the assistant coach, making his way toward us. "I saw you get hit. Are you okay?"

I nod, reaching up to press my fingertips to my forehead, prodding around for the source of the pain. "Yeah... I'm fine now." I breathe, glancing back to the active game. I catch a glimpse of Lena owning the opposing team, weaving back and forth and delivering a strong kick to the ball, sending it sailing... If I didn't know she was on my own team the entire time, I might've thought it was her who'd gotten me with her killer kicks.

The coach pulled me aside to ask me a shit ton of questions about the incident to decide whether or not I'd need medical attention. The whole time I was answering his questions, I was looking over at Sam and Nathan where they were standing on the margins of the field, looking out at the ongoing game.

Once cleared as safe, I grudgingly made my way toward them, my heart pounding and making my stomach upset. I am facing the unknown as I approach them, uncertain of what will happen once I speak to them again. Obviously, Sam would be standoffish, and Nathan has every right to being upset with me at this point, I did crush his dreams and walk out of his life just hours after he'd revealed that secret to me. I don't have high hopes of being on the good side of either of them now.

"Hey..." I greet them with an awkward wave, draping my hands behind my back and shifting my weight frequently, waiting for it to be over.

"Oh... Hey." Sam turned toward me, Nathan sticking close to his side, peering up at me with wide blue eyes.

"Thanks... For saving me." I laugh, but it sounds more like a strangled breath caught in my throat. I look to the game, listening to the squeals of excitement. I risk a peek back at his face to read his expression. 

His brown eyes are perplexed, his hair hanging loosely, brushing across his forehead. It's here in the broad sunlight that I see the small details in his face I never noticed during our adventures in the dark. Across his cheeks and forehead, there is a light, faded dusting of freckles which adds a highlight to his eyes. 

I get all caught up in staring at his face that I miss what he even said to me next, leaving me staring at him blankly and blinking. "What?"

"Are you okay?"

"Oh," I sigh, tapping my forehead, squinting at him. "I'm fine. Thick skull, y'know..."

He looks at me again but looks like he doesn't know quite what to say. He purses his lips and frowns.

"And... I'm sorry. For how things ended... But they had to, you know that, right? I can't keep going on like we are. I really hope you are happy and Nathan is, too. I'm sorry."

I meet Nathan's eyes one more time before backing off and turning away. I'm not ready to get into the deep dark parts that come with making this apology. I'd avoided it for a whole month and it ate away at me. Lena was surely getting tired of hearing about it, too.

~~~

I sit cross-legged on my bed that night, cradling an ice pack to my face and reading. The wind had come up, the sound of the breeze squeezing through the cracked window causing a low whistle to emit.

Everyone else in the room is asleep but me, of course... I read by the single lit candle beside me on my nightstand. The dim light isn't doing much for me, but it's better than lying in the dark. 

I feel a little better about things now, but still kinda sick. I don't know if I made my intentions clear enough for me to escape ever having to talk to him about it again. There's a good chance that I will eventually have to face him again to completely talk things through.

Maybe I'm not giving him enough credit. He did not judge nor disown me when I did other questionable things like going as far as to walk off the edge of the roof to scare the shit out of him and Fran the night of the warehouse party. He should have up and left my crazy ass for that one... But he didn't. 

He did, however, bail out shortly after, but only because he felt cornered, and like with everything else he'd done since getting here almost three months ago, it was all for Nathan. I guess I can't blame him too much for wanting something for himself. Still, Nathan never should have ended up at Crystal's apartment that night. 

My heart aches as I think about him and his brother and I am once again graced with the feelings of my doubts. The hurt in my chest for the feelings I can't seem to chase into the shadows and set free from my mind. It kills me to look at him and to tell myself it can never be so. I have to lie to myself just to make the pain feel a little less potent.

I'm a complete mess to be honest. My thoughts are a mish-mash of me just going back and forth on things. Saying one thing, and meaning another... I'm completely lost and in need of a friend to set me straight... I miss Fran.

Lena is great, don't get me wrong... But I feel like as time has passed, she has become complacent with things, used to the way things are now. I don't think she remembers Fran in the same way I do... My maternal protector and shoulder to cry on. Lena listens to me, too, and always has time to chat, but she's not quite the same. She's impatient and always moving toward a better goal in life while I'm still scrambling to get mine to replicate something worthy of praise.

A few more months and I'll be out these doors on my ass. That's how it'll end, right? I'll turn eighteen and the Sisters will throw me out and leave me for dead on the streets of Boston. 

It makes me sick with anxiety to think of the future and how things are going to be. I feel uneasy about it all, which is kinda unusual when you think about it. Nothing about my life has been certain or guaranteed. I just always adjusted and became adaptable. This should be no different... Yet it still causes me great stress to think about. I don't really know who I am or what I want, you can only explore self-expression so much in a bleak place like this. 

It's with a heavy, saddened breath that I make my choice. I blow out my candle with a new, hopeful thought in my head... A plan to reconcile what I can with Sam and Nathan, while keeping things completely open and honest between us three. No more confusing emotions, no more conflictions. I'll do it first thing tomorrow when I see him.

~~~

Dawn comes streaming through the open windows in the morning. I am woken by one of the Sisters calling out her usual cheerful morning greeting. I groggily get up and collect a clean change of clothes and make my way to the showers.

After cleaning up, I spent way too long in front of the mirror braiding my hair back, taking careful liberties to leave a few strands down to accent my face, but not enough for the Sisters to crack their ruler against their palms for being too risque. 

My plans of apologizing and rebuilding my relationship with the Morgan boys came to a stuttering halt as I was walking down the high-ceiling hallways to the lunch room. Father Duffy pulled me aside with a proud smile on his face which immediately confused me.

"Congratulations, Michelle." He beamed at me, making my heart pound anxiously. What is it? What have I done now?... What did he find out about?

"You've been selected for a foster care interview with a potential guardian. Your interview will take place promptly after breakfast in my office."


	16. Away in Chains

I found myself in a peculiar situation... One unlike anything I'd ever done, unlike any other situation I'd ever found myself in. 

Due to the large numbers of kids at the St. Francis Home, it is unlikely for the most part that even a quarter of us would be selected for an interview after being chosen through the system. If you were lucky enough to score one, you'd best believe you're pretty special.

Yet, I felt anything but special sitting there in that chair. I felt targeted, a terrified animal sitting sullenly across from the older couple, Father Duffy at my side, reading off my files to these strangers who wore identical polite smiles with doting adoration in their eyes. 

There is nothing about them that is immediately alarming... Well, other than the overwhelming stink of the woman's perfume. The couple is easily in their early seventies, looking for something to keep them busy. Whatever made them think that taking in a troubled teenage girl was just the thing to bring the spice back to their lives is beyond me. 

All I could hear was the loud ticking of the clock accompanied by the tapping of Father Duffy's pen on his desktop while he spoke, reading off my rap sheet like it was a list of pros and cons. I may not have ever found myself in this position before, but I know the routine: Smile politely, speak only when spoken to, and always be the idol of a perfect girl.

It sickens me. That image had never been me, despite my efforts to fill the role. I'd made too many mistakes in my short time on Earth to hope to be perfect. 

I have to say, though, the couple didn't rub me the wrong way at all. They smile so warmly and ask kind questions in endearing voices, an interaction I've not yet had with anyone. It filled me with the strangest sense of longing and made me begin to feel homesick for my own family, wherever they are now. 

Claudius and Maude Gracie are their names... An older couple originally hailing from Wisconsin, now living in the suburbs of Boston. They rambled on, sharing a whole slur of details about their lives, and I absorbed every last detail carefully for inspection later.

They have only one child of their own, a grown son named Brian who had long since moved on and started his own family with his own grandkids at this point. 

"So, dear, tell us about yourself. What do you like to do?"

Maude smiled kindly at me, putting me on the spot to share my personal thoughts that would reflect the inner workings of my mind. I hadn't quite decided yet if I really wanted this foster thing to work out... I mean, I could sabotage it. Then again, where's the hurt in giving it a try? It's not like I have much to leave behind here. 

"I enjoy learning about all kinds of things... History, mostly. I love all things related to exploration and travel."

"If you could go anywhere right now, where would you go? Maude asks me, leaning forward slightly with a coy look on her face like she's about to share a secret with me. 

I don't have to think about it, the place comes to mind immediately. 

"Rome." I say quickly, regretting it instantly when I feel the mental backlash of the Sisters chastising me about answering too soon after being asked a question or being too forward and blunt. Regardless, they don't seem bothered by my sudden lack of manners.

Claudius smiles, leaning back in his seat a bit, his barrel arms crossed across his striped polo-clad chest. "Really?" He chuckles, "I half expected you to say somewhere like California or New York... Why Rome?"

"It's gorgeous," I shrug, recoiling a bit back into my reserved shyness, trying to maintain eye contact as best as I can and forcing myself not to look at the floor the way I always do when I am nervous. "It's full of history and culture. I'd be most interested in the ruin aspect of it." 

"Michelle has a strong history of being a wonderful student," Father Duffy steps in, trying his hardest to sell me on what salvageable assets I do have when not getting into petty fights and getting the crap kicked out of me. 

I smile warmly at them both, still feeling my way through the dark on the whole interview process, but not drowning in it yet. 

"Her participation in her classes is what makes her a very special asset. She's always very friendly and open to chatting, and is a very easy-going girl."

I can't help but feel more like I am being auctioned off sitting there at the table across from these people. The way Father Duffy is conducting the interview feels more like he's trying to convince them as to why I'm worth adopting. Isn't the point of all of this to let the kids' personalities shine through and do the talking? 

"Do you prefer to be called Michelle or Missy?" Claudius asks.

"Missy, it's more of a nickname." I shrug, unsure of how else to make my name sound exciting to them. 

"Do you have any dreams and aspirations?"

In this bleak place, dreams are promptly squashed I think to myself before putting on a smile, "I'd love a job working with history... Maybe a tour guide for a museum? Maybe working in the field? I don't know, I would just love being that close to history."

"Do you have a favorite era to learn about?"

"I love the Edwardian era, one of my favorite things about it is the fashion. That entire era had such lovely clothing and style. It certainly beats out the rags they have us wear here." I say with a direct jab to Father Duffy, lifting the hem of my skirt a bit as an example of the frail craftsmanship. 

I thought he was going to choke. His eyes widened and flashed from me to them, trying to read the room and figure out if my disgruntled comment had had any affect on them. Apparently, it hadn't, since they laughed and nodded along. "Yes, Edwardian fashion is very nice. Dear, I don't think it'd take much to undo those things." She says, nodding toward my attire.

"If everything works out here, we'll take you to get a whole new wardrobe... Hell, if all you want to wear is Edwardian gowns, then so be it." Claudius chuckles, his deep booming laugh seeming to cause the room to vibrate. 

His comment sounds like a selling point and it makes my heart sink uncomfortably. I've never once had to ponder the idea of being outside these walls living a normal life, it was never a plausible option for me. Now that I'm being faced with the opportunity to go, I feel uneasy about leaving. It may have sucked, but the orphanage is the only home I've ever known. Leaving it now feels like a betrayal. 

They ask me some more questions, but the truth is that there is not much to tell. I don't know much about life outside these walls, so I can't share any of my experiences with them other than my recent injury. Obviously, I can't tell them about the affinity I have for sneaking out. 

At the end of the hour, the interview concluded and Father Duffy shoos me out of his office to speak with the couple privately. 

I'm in a complete daze, my day having gone into a whirlwind of unexpected experiences... I need to find Lena. 

I jog around the halls, searching the classroom windows for the face of my dear friend, only slowing down and pretending to be digging through my school bag when I spot a nun making her rounds. 

I snag Lena from her line of classmates as they leave Science and pull her into the shadows of a pillar, gripping her arm and staring into her eyes intensely, my skin clammy on hers, my gaze fleeting and nervous.

"Whoa, Missy, you alright?"

"No!" I hiss, peering around the corner to make sure that no one else is listening. "I just got out of Father Duffy's office."

"What?" She shakes her head in confusion, "What on Earth were you doing in there?"

"I got an interview!"

"And interview?" Her eyes flicker between mine, her confusion turning to shock and then happiness. "That's wonderful news!"

"No, it's not!" I moan, gripping her forearms dramatically, draping myself against her while I sigh loudly, just needing the opportunity to rant and to get it off my chest.

"Why not?" She laughs quietly, gripping my elbows to pull me back enough to see my face clearly under the strands of loose hair falling across my face. "You have an opportunity to get out of this place. That's more than most kids get. Be happy! It's a low percentage of kids that even get selected for an interview."

I know she's trying to make me feel better about it all, but I just feel uneasy. "What do I do?" I whisper, "I can't leave! This place... It's the only home I've ever known, for better or worse."

"I understand, but life is going to change for you at some point." She reminds me, giving me a stern maternal look that reminds me of the ones I used to get from Fran all the time when she was lecturing me. "Might as well grab life by the balls and make your own choices, right? Instead of waiting for your eighteenth birthday when the Sisters kick you out on your ass? This could be a good thing for you!" 

She has a point... Once a kid turns eighteen, they're given some meager cash, collect their few belongings, and are driven to a halfway house and ditched there to figure out things for themselves. Having some degree of stability from an actual, functioning home might not be a bad idea.

I sigh, feeling the nervous energy hard at work at incapacitating me. My chest feels tight and I feel out of breath.

"Well, how did it go? Did you like the people you met up with? Was it a couple or a single?"

"It went fine... Great, actually, I think... It was an elderly couple named Claudius and Maude. I don't know what made them think they needed to adopt a kid, but more power to them..."

"What'd they think of you?"

I frown a bit, unsure. "They seem to think I'm going to be their daughter in the coming weeks. I've watched from afar, I know how the process works. One day, a kid will be here, and the next?... Not a trace. They go so quickly and quietly, never to be heard from again. I'm terrified."

"Why? What could go wrong?"

A million different answers cross my mind, but I decide to keep them to myself. Her hopeful expression does not deserve to be smothered by my bitter attitude toward things. 

"You'll be fine!" She assures me, hugging me tightly. "They'd be stupid not to pick you."

"That's just the problem," I mumble into her blouse, "I don't want to be chosen. I don't want to face what waits for me outside those gates. I caught a glimpse of real life the night I snuck out with Sam, and it's terrifying."

"You're being dramatic." She sighs, pulling away to look at my face again, a strange sternness in her stare. "It's time to leave the nest, you know."

I sigh, shrugging as I free myself from her touch. "Why would an elderly couple go to the trouble of adopting a kid just three months from their eighteenth birthday? Wouldn't you choose someone that you know... You'd have more time with?"

She shrugs, "I don't know... Maybe they just want a young adult in their life to throw money at."

She was about to say something else, but the stern call of Sister Beatrice from down the hall made us both turn.

"Michelle, Lena, don't you two have classes to be getting to?" She asks, her brisk walk on her stubby heels bringing her face to face with us within seconds. She stands there, perching her hands on her hips for a moment before making a shooing motion to get us moving. 

Unfortunately, our next class differs... I waved a sullen goodbye to Lena and made my way to my class while she left for hers, my head swimming with stressed out thoughts.


	17. Charlestown, Boston

All that excitement today, and despite my enthusiasm this morning when I set out, I never got the opportunity to achieve what I'd set out to do. Father Duffy had snatched me from the halls before the brothers even fell into my vision. After that, classes and life had me whipping around and not leaving a spare moment all day to seek out the two. 

Now it's night, and all is quiet. I laid in bed for a while, the clock ticking in the background playing the role of my muted soundtrack while I fought hard to get to sleep. I rolled onto my side around 12:45, my gaze drifting up to the brightly illuminated window, cracked open slightly to let some of the sweet summer air into the stuffy room.

The crickets outside are working away to craft the lovely tranquil sound of the forest surrounding the children's home. I don't think I've ever really given this place much credit in my writing, only shitting on it as being a hell hole and an awful place to spend one's young life but you know what? It was never really that bad. At least, not the place itself. Certainly the people.

The entire estate is sort of hidden away in the grassy knolls just outside of Charlestown, a small sub-town in Boston. Many nights when I was up on the roof, I could look out over the whole place and see all the ancient spires rising out of the fog like norse ruins and on those evenings I crafted an alternate reality for myself to live in. Rooftop jumping was given so much more purpose when you were pretending you were a stealthy ninja collecting treasure or an escaping princess of some kind.

I feel sick again... Anxiety taking it's toll on my insides, making my limbs hurt, heart pound, and stomach churn. I lay there on my side, frowning in the darkness, trying to form a plan or come up with something that would make this all less painful to go through with.

I mean... Knowing more about the couple would certainly help to put my mind at ease. If I could at least see their home and get a real sense of what kind of people they are, I might be more comfortable going through with it. 

I ponder this plan that I have literally only put two seconds of thought into before deciding it's a bright idea. 

I open my eyes again, the sound of the breeze blowing through the tree branches outside my window a soft lullaby on my restless ears. I sigh and sit upright, the mattress springs groaning under my shifting weight. I plant my feet on the floor and rub my eyes, blinking a couple times to clear them.

I rise to my feet, fiddling with the skirt of my nightgown a bit before sticking my head out the window and peering out into the night, looking left and then right. Not a sign of life.

One last look around the room, and I climbed out into the brightly lit night under the cover of the full moon.

I know that Sam's not my most favorite person in the world at the moment, but I do have to admit I miss his friendship deeply and have been constantly questioning my own reasoning for sending him away and finding it harder and harder to justify it. Of course I'm still upset with him, and a bit heartbroken to be honest, but I'm still living. The hurt didn't kill me, not yet anyway... Why should I let my fear control my life when I should take Lena's advice and grab life by the balls. Plus, I still owe him a formal apology and a good sit down to talk things out and sort them. 

Also... I kinda want to have the satisfaction of scaring the crap out of him, so, that's a plus and I feel like it will help to even us out again.

I shimmy along the stone border outside my window until it is safe to step out onto the roof of the administration building. I take a moment to pause and scan the rooftops all across the courtyard for his spindly silhouette, but I do not see him. 

I pad across the uneven stone quickly, my bare feet slapping on the concrete and loose pebbles as I jog to the other end of the roof, stopping a moment to search the drifting, billowing fog for the boy's dormitory in the distance. Before I can even think of going there, I need to obtain some information. 

Down the waterdrain I go, landing on a lower roof just below. From here, there is a window left open to cool down the stuffy inner halls of the administrative building. I slip between the panes of glass easily and drop to the floor. It's just like the night I'd broken in with Sam to visit Fran, only the circumstances aren't as stressful this time around. 

I move quickly down the brightly lit hall, the overhead chandeliers casting shadows beneath them, their many fake candle bulbs providing ample light for me to navigate by. 

I know this building well, at the end of this hall it will branch off into a T intersection. If I go left from there, it will lead me right to the front doors and guarded cubicle where the fresh documents from my visit should be waiting for me. 

When I get around the corner, I stop dead in my tracks, skidding a bit to bring myself to a complete halt. I lean back, pressing my back against the wall, the rest of my body hidden by a large potted plant guarding the corner. 

Near the front doors is Sister Catherine and Father Duffy, just having a nice chat from the looks of it. 

"How many interviews did you conduct today? Were they promising?" She asks him. 

"Two... The first couple definitely seemed very interested, the second ones, not as much..."

"That's a shame... Who were the first folks?"

"Claudius and Maude Shaffer. They're an older couple from the suburbs looking to adopt. They're quite fond of Miss. Michelle Darabont."

"Really? From just one interview? The girl must be more charming than I gave her credit for."

I peer out to see her surprised shrug as she fills the flower pot by the door with water from a little white plastic watering can. It's only a matter of time before she comes to investigate this one and finds me stowed away behind it.

I dare listen just a little longer. 

"Who was the other child who got an interview?" Sister Catherine asks.

"Samuel Morgan... But the boy reacted with such hostility that the interview ended pretty quickly."

"Not too surprising," Sister Catherine admits with a disappointed shrug. "In the two months him and his brother have been here, no one has been able to get through to him. He's an angry, frustrated young man with a troubled past... He goes out of his way to sabotage each positive opportunity he has been given. If he can't clean himself up, he'll be seeing the Boston streets sooner than he thought."

I frown, I hadn't realized that Sam had also been selected for an interview today. It's spectacular news, of course. Most kids don't get an interview in their first year at the home, let alone the first two months. But... It's not good that he's managed to already get on the eviction list with the Sisters. 

This new factor also brings a unique new twist to the evening I have planned... I was on my way to apologize to Sam this morning, but little did I know that he was on the same route I was, headed towards Father Duffy's office shortly after me, the idea already outlined in his head how he'd do it... How he'd use his charming charisma and bold-edged words to bring Hell down on whoever wanted to speak with him. He'd so easily sway his audience through sabotage...

Not because he didn't want to leave the home, but because he did not want to go alone. Him and Nathan are a package deal, Sam won't be leaving without him, leaving his brother behind to face the unknown without him there to protect him.

I'm a bit disappointed, to be honest... I secretly had hoped that if something this monumental came about, he'd want to tell me... But then again, he did seem to get my message loud and clear and was staying far away like I'd asked. 

Sister Catherine and Father Duffy exit the main hall, leaving all quiet again. I take my opportunity to jog forward toward the boxed in cubicle office. I take an extra moment to be sure that the coast is clear before tugging a bobby pin free from my tangled mess of hair, crouching by the door that leads into the small sqaure office, getting to work immediately with unlocking the door.

After a minute, I hear the quiet click indicating that it is unlocked. One more look around at my surroundings and I push open the door and crouch inside. 

The office is a box shape, sitting in the center of the large lobby space. There's the one door that allowed access to the cubicle, and the rest of it is all paned in either plexiglass smeared in finger prints, or sheets of screen with tiny doors beneath them along them for exchanging documents.

On the desk running along the wall to the left has row after row of wire organizing racks filled and overflowing with documents and papers. I get to work rifling through them, and it doesn't take long before I come across the desired folder, still left out neatly near the top, Father Duffy's signature signing off on it on the front.

I snatch it, peel back the cover and speed-read the contents on the pages, the messy handwriting difficult to decipher at first. Despite it all, there was one part that I could make out, which is good, it's the only part I need. It's an address.

I rip a neon pink Post-It note from the stack and grab a highlighter, scribbling down their address in my own messy font on the paper, folding it neatly and stowing it away in my pocket. I get out of there as soon as my work is completed, darting back down the hallway I'd come from, and scrambling back out the window I'd used earlier.

Once I'm back out in the cool summer night air under the thousands of stars above, I get moving again toward the boy's dormitories.

I jump from there to the opposing wall, the uneven red bricks washed blue in the dim moonlight, slick with moisture and damp to the touch. I pull myself up with all the strength I can manage, shuffling along the edge until I am able to climb up the air conditioning unit hanging out of a dark window, scrambling onto the ledge above.

A look across the estate is a gloomy, mysterious sight. Most of the windows are black except for the few rare exceptions where a few are illuminated with candlelight or low lights. 

An owl is hooting in the distance, keeping the night noisy and covering up the sounds of loose concrete bits slipping free of the grooves between the stones as I hang onto the stone edging of the activity hall. I utilize a decorative angel statue at the corner of the roof, swinging around, hanging onto her marble arms and swinging right into an open window. 

I find myself in the dim hallway, a warm lamp left on in a small sitting room to my left bathes the hall in the soft glow. I quickly scramble back into the shadows, listening hard for any sign that someone else is around while I move quickly to the opposite end of the building. 

I hear whistling and peer around the corner carefully, spotting the janitor working away, mopping the elegantly decorated tiles, removing the taint of children from their shiny surfaces. 

I move quietly to the nearest window, lifting it silently and climbing back out into the night. Like a shadow, I continue my ninja adventure hopping rooftops and avoiding all witnesses as I make my way to the opposite end of the property.

I haven't been to the boy's dormitory since Sam and Nathan moved in, so I'm not 100% certain which part they are even in, but I've done scarier things than sneaking around boy's rooms looking for the freckle-faced loser who broke my heart, so I think I'll manage. 

Ten minutes later, I find myself throwing down a fire escape latter and scaling it to the bottom, which places me on the roof right outside the first row of windows on the bottom floor. Sam and Nathan had never given me any specific details to work with, so narrowing down the search area will definitely be troublesome. 

I pry open a window and slink inside, blending into the shadows of the wall. I blink a few times to help my eyes adjust. From there, I realize that I have just landed myself in the middle of one of the rooms. 

All around me is different volumes of snoring and deep breathing. There are rectangles of bright moonlight cast across the worn floorboards from the windows, some of the light grazing over the faces of some of the boys.

I want from my place by the wall carefully and quietly, each step is silent and lost in the sea of snoring. I walk from toe to heel, hands at my sides, my eyes searching the partially obscured faces of each of the boys, looking for some trademark details to confirm their identities. 

I keep moving along, being so bold enough to step further into the aisles to get a better look at the faces of some who've got their covers pulled up over their heads.

Within about ten minutes, I come to the conclusion that Sam and Nathan are not in this room. I quietly let myself out into the dimly lit hall.

There are three other doors on either side of the hallway to the dead end. I step further into the moonlight bathed corridor, taking a risk and pushing open the door on the opposite side of the door I'd just come through.

This room is much the same as the last, full of loud, peaceful snowing. I tiptoe along, venturing to the end of the long room just under the window, then looking to my left. The bed pushed up against the corner wall contains Nathan all swaddled up in his quilt, dead asleep. And right next to him on the opposite bed, is Sam.

He's kicked off his covers and is all sprawled out across the small mattress that he's seemingly already too big for. His left arm is cast over his face, covering his eyes and his mouth is hanging open.

I go to his side and crouch down, studying his pale blue face for a long moment before reaching toward him and shaking his arm. At first, there's nothing, no sign of life. I shake him again, and this time I am met with a groan and he tosses his arm in annoyance, not waking yet.

"Sam." I hiss at him, shaking him again, narrowing my eyes at him in amusement, enjoying this brief moment of just taking in his sullen nature when he is completely at peace. His face uncreased with stress or worry, completely clean and innocent. 

He drags his arm away from his face, draping it over his chest. His long lashes are casting shadows over his cheeks. 

I shake him again, gently shuttering his shoulder. This time I make some progress, he stirs a bit, groaning and rolling onto his side. "Sam." I murmur again, just low enough for him alone to hear.

A single brown, groggy eye opens, darting around the room in confusion before settling on my blurred outline. 

"Get off your ass and on your feet. It's adventure time!" I whisper in the most enthusiastic tone I can manage without waking the other boys.

He groans in confusion, reaching up to drag his hand down his face, ruffling his hair in the process. He opens both eyes now, to look over at me in an unenthusiastic, confused fashion.

"What are you doing here?" He murmurs, his voice low and hoarse. 

"I need your help with something," I tell him, putting on an alluring smile, hoping it's enough to send my point home and convince him to join me. "long story short, it means leaving the home tonight in search of this address." I propose to him in a hushed whisper, holding up the pink sticky note in the dim light for him to see. "Are you in?"

"I thought you were busy hating me." He mumbles, rolling over onto his stomach, burying his face in his pillow, waves of his chestnut brown hair spraying out in graceful locks around his face.

I sigh, my heart saddened once more by the trouble my love had caused me. If I could cut the strings and let it be free, I would.

"I'm sorry, Sam." I tell him quietly, averting my gaze down to the note in my hands. "I'm not here to get into the technicalities of it all, but please know that I am sorry... And I do miss exploring with you... And anyway, this might be our last chance to go exploring because I think my days are numbered here."

He rolls his head to one side so that he can peer over at me with one half-lidded eye. "What do you mean?" He asks in a low, tired, cautious voice. 

"I might be getting taken in by a family soon. This is the only bit of reassurance I can grant myself before that happens to make me feel a bit better about the whole thing. Whether you come with me or not, I have to do this. I'll go alone if I have to."

He sighs in defeat, lying in complete stillness for a few long moments before slowly making the movements to pull himself up into a sitting position. 

He plants his bare feet on the worn wood floor, reaching up to tug on the collar of his pastel blue t-shirt, his brown eyes peeking out at me from under his lashes while he looked like he was putting some serious thought into his decision to follow me, thinking hard about the affect it'd have on himself to do so.

"Give it here." He sighs, snatching the note, flattening it to view it in the moonlight. He reads over it once, twice, and a third time again and shakes his head, sighing again as he reaches for his tennis shoes at the end of his bed.

"I can't believe that you're dragging me out to do this."

I grin gleefully as I watch him lace up his shoes grudgingly, mumbling the whole time. He grabs his backpack and his black hoodie, zipping it up until it is directly under his chin. 

"Ready?" He whispers, a strange look glowing in his eyes.

I nod once in confirmation, proud that I'd even been able to convince him to give up his much-needed sleep to come venturing with me.

We slip out of his dorm into the hall, down the hallway to the end where he opens the window leading out onto a small stone edge bordering the building. As soon as he'd closed the window behind us, he jabs an accusing finger in my face.

"What gives you the right?" He snaps at me, his mood abruptly shifting from sleepy teen to an angst-filled brooding man. I recoil a bit, but hold my ground under the pressure, daring to lift my chin a fraction to defy him, looking him dead in the eyes.

"I might've asked you the same thing the night you drug me off to Crystal's," I remind him in a cold, authoritative tone. "I feel like this makes us even. And anyway, I do want to offer you a sincere apology. I still feel how I felt then, but I know my delivery and choice of words were absolutely dickhead-of-the-year-award worthy. And if you're mad at me now, resentful, even... I understand completely and hope that you can take comfort in knowing this might be one of the last times you see me."

"Stop being so dramatic." He mutters, looking away, redirecting his gaze out over the courtyard filled with its lamps, the light almost lost in the fog below. "Why do you even want me to go with you? It's not like you even want to be around me anymore... Until you need me, that is. You know, you go on a lot about how I mess with your feelings but then you're here pulling this crap." He gestures outward.

He sighs in disgust, turning away from me to climb down the ladder bringing us to ground level. He goes first, so he has to wait for me to get to the ground before we can continue. 

Okay... So this reunion did not have the desired effect I'd hoped for... Then again, I don't know what I was hoping for. For him to be excited? Eager to overlook the crap that had gone down for just one night. I guess I hadn't planned for what might've happened otherwise, and this is it. 

"It's fine that you want my help, it's... Whatever... I just wish it were on better terms that I could have the promise of everything being fixed tomorrow, but something tells me this is a one-time thing. Things could be so much worse, though, right?"

"What do you mean?" I frown, feeling uncomfortable and a bit put on the spot, unsure of what else to say to rectify the things he'd already 

"I'm saying I've been through worse things before. This doesn't compare, not by a longshot. It hurts, but it won't kill me, like I know it won't kill you. I feel like a piece of shit for dragging you to Crystal's that night and I hope you will also accept my apology when I say that it wasn't originally my intention for that to happen. Anyway... What's the deal with this place?"

I'm quiet for a long time while I try to figure out how to word it properly. "This morning, I was called into Father Duffy's office..."

"Oh? What'd he want?"

I look over at his face, trying to read his expression before continuing. "It was for an interview, as you might be familiar with..." 

I shoot him a look, waiting for the realization to appear on his face, but he hides it well. "I hear that you also had an interview today."

He bites on his lower lip in deep thought for a couple of moments before sighing slightly, "Yeah."

"...And that you sabotaged it?" 

"...Yeah." He admits in defeat, maintaining a steady pace toward the front gates. We're making good progress navigating the maze. 

"Why?... I mean, it was for Nathan, right?"

"Yeah... My brother isn't on steady ground at the moment... Leaving him here alone would just..." He stops himself, shaking his head and frowning. "Nevermind."

We keep moving, climbing over things, skillfully scooting along the ledges outside windows and scaling ladders to get back up on the roof of the administrative building. We stand there for a moment, looking out beyond to where the gate would be located.

"You don't have to do this if you don't want to." I remind him, giving him the opportunity to back out before going all in. 

He looks out over the vast sea of buildings, shaking his head. "No... I'm in. Let's go see all that Charlestown has to offer."

~~~

"So how did your interview go?" Sam asks shortly after we'd gotten over the gate and had run down the tree-lined lane to where it united with the sidewalk and the functioning society on the outside.

I shrug, feeling disenchanted with the whole thing now. "It went fine... Great, even... But I can't leave, not yet... Not until I know what I'm getting myself into. They liked me a lot, it sounds promising, but I don't know what to think. I mean, it kinda pisses me off the Father Duffy was trying to sell me like a damn car, but still... I guess it went okay."

"How's your face?" His tone is mildly mocking and amused. I sigh, tossing him a look as I respond. "Fan-friggin-tastic." 

"Me and Nathan saw you go down, you had us worried, they got you damn good."

"I felt it," I wince, reaching up to touch the patches of my skin that are still tender and sore. "It sucked... Mostly because I had to overcome my barrier and admit defeat when you two came to my rescue. I was trying to avoid you, you know."

"Well, you suck at holding grudges." 

He's not wrong... I've always been pretty bad in that regard. I'd managed to successfully stay angry with Sam for a whole month before having to admit defeat and come sulking back tonight. I hate that I don't have the backbone to put my foot down and to keep it there... I missed him too much, more than I would like to admit.

I needed a navigator tonight, obviously, I'm not skilled in the art of reading addresses and finding them. Plus I guess it served as a great excuse to bring him around again. Honestly, though, I feel sick with anxiety being around him alone again, the swarms of butterflies in my stomach causing havoc.

"How far is it?"

"Not too much further... The address is located in the suburbs on the outskirts of Charlestown. It's actually pretty close to the orphanage."

"Great..." I breathe, wondering hopefully in the back of my mind that if this all works out, if it'd be possible for Sam to come and meet up with me on occasion. Or vice versa... I suppose I could go back to the home, sometimes, too... Man, I must be the only kid considering breaking back into the orphanage they grew up in.

"So what's the deal with all of this?" Sam asks, waving the sticky note to indicate what he is referring to. "Is it really all about peace of mind?"

"Yeah..." I breathe, walking in silence for a few moments before elaborating further. "My mind is currently a state of complete and utter chaos... Just having this fragment of security would mean the world to me. It's terrifying to think about leaving... I've always dreamt about it, thinking about what I'd do when I was out... But nothing can prepare you for when it actually happens."

"I get that... When Mom was sick, we moved from house to house, no longer living in the financial security we originally had. Even with Mom's employer dropping large, anonymous checks in our mailbox once a month, it was impossible to keep the house. Dad would just squander it all on booze, anyway."

He narrows his eyes at something distant, a lifetime of pain and disappointment playing out in his dark eyes. "Point is, I know what it feels like to have to face the unknown. Nathan, too. Every morning when you'd first open your eyes, you'd just lie there staring at the ceiling wondering to yourself how much had changed in the few hours you'd slept."

"What is your Dad like?" I ask him, then politely tacking on "If you don't mind me asking." on the end to make it sound like less of a demand.

He laughs, and it's actually a cheerful laugh, not one of the emotionless snorts he usually uses before delving into discussing his father.

"What do you want to know? He's unextraordinary for the most part, a lonely, bitter man left to raise two kids on his own because he was more interested in tapping some cougar ass instead of caring for his own wife. My Dad? He's an asshole. A drunkard who doesn't give a crap 'bout no one else but himself. That's pretty much it."

"Do you know where he is now?"

"Yeah..." He says with a slight shrug. "Still holed up in the old apartment me and Nathan shared with him for seven months. He was always stuck in his ways with crap, even down to the house, moaning and groaning endlessly every time we'd have to move again, dragging our sick Mother all over Boston."

He thinks about it for a moment, and when he speaks again, his voice is different, lower, but more careful as he articulates his word choice to mirror the telling of the perfect tale. 

"From beginning to end, this is how it happened."


	18. The Faded Front Steps

The perfectly unusual Suburban family. 

That's what you would have seen if you'd known us then. The smiling children, freckle-faced with wide, excited eyes... Our father, the stalky, strong man with thinning brown hair, and our mother, Cassandra, a short medium-weight woman with her glasses and shoulder-length wavy blonde hair, making her look exactly like what her profession claimed her to be: an eccentric historian.

My Mom worked in different museums and history archives all over MA, traveling on weekend trips when she was younger to share her discoveries with other eager, young scholars. Her storytelling packed with detail always had a way of absorbing the crowd. After she'd gotten married to my Father and had us both, she slowed down her work and ended up being a librarian for several years before being approached about becoming an in-house historian for a woman we weren't familiar with that our mother did not speak of often.

Our lives were nothing but happy for many years until shortly after my fourteenth birthday when things took a twist. With Nathan being a few years younger than me, it fell to me to protect him and guide him. During this time, our Mother had a lot of unbearable pain that eventually led to her seeking medical help to find out what was wrong. That's when we all learned the dreaded news... That she'd been diagnosed with MS. 

Despite this fork in the road, we got on with life... Dad got a bit detached and Mom was strong for a while until the depression and doom set in... And me and Nathan became her caretakers. 

I slammed my locker door for what would be the last time on the last day my life was normal... Well, as normal as it could have been. I grew up strong and determined in the small two-story suburban house alongside my younger brother and parents. That house would quickly go from being my sole safe haven to being the haunting place in my dreams, the horrible scene that I could never make go away, and the one place I tried my hardest to avoid. 

In the summer three years before I ended up here in the home with Nathan, I was out there, living the normal teenage life, peering at the girls behind the door of my locker, thinking up some fantastic pick-up line to use on them, not another care in the world.

Needless to say, my priorities were quickly rearranged when I got home to find the house empty besides Nathan who sat sullenly on the couch.

"Hey little bro, what's up? Where is everyone?" I asked as I hung up my coat, turning to peek over at him, my light-hearted grin quickly falling away when I saw the sea of emotions unfolding on my brother's face. 

"What's wrong?..." I hesitantly stepped closer, leaning forward to get a better look at him.

He's staring dead ahead, blue eyes locked onto nothing in particular, the fear hidden in them starting to shine through. 

"I... I came home, and found Mom on the floor... Surrounded by pill bottles."

His words do not immediately make sense to me. I hear them, but their meaning is so impossible that I don't recognize the severity of them. 

"Wh... What?"

Nathan turns halfway toward me on the couch, his big blue eyes are terrified. I see then that he is not kidding or exaggerating. 

"Where's Dad?" 

"At the hospital."

"Shit..." I breathe, pacing and running my fingers through my hair. Nathan watches me sullenly from his place on the sagging couch. I walk back and forth, to the front door and back to the couch where he sits. 

"Want to go to the hospital? I can get us a ride." 

"Dad told me to stay here and to tell you to stay here." He calls after me as I reach for the phone.

"What does Dad know?" I mutter, flicking through the contact book, looking for the name I have in mind. "If he were home more often, stuff like this wouldn't happen in the first place."

"Sam... I don't want to go." He murmurs and I stop, glancing back over my shoulder at him. He's got those terrified eyes trained on my face, flickering between my eyes, trying to speak to me through his gaze. 

"Why? That's your Mother in that bed." I tell him, pointing. 

He looks down at his interlocked fingers in his lap, looking guilty and ashamed.

"Nathan?" I demand impatiently, the phone still half-dialed, the corded device still hanging in my hand.

"I just don't want to see her like that..." He says so quietly that it only sounds slightly louder than a whisper. 

His sudden flit of vulnerability stops me dead in my tracks. My heart softens, the anger and worry melting away. 

"I can't..." He shakes his head, a lone tear begins to trail down his right cheek. I sigh, taking a deep breath and redirecting my gaze to the phone in my hand. This is the first of the many tough calls I'd be making for the sake of me and my brother.

I hang the phone up and let the realization of the situation we are in settle in. I walk slowly toward Nathan, collapsing on the couch beside him, fixing my gaze on the blank wall above the fireplace. My mind becomes an empty, dangerous place when I let it wander. 

I can almost hear the yelling that takes place in this living room on a nightly basis, the muted screaming I can hear from my room when I'm lying in bed at night, bathing in the dim light of the moon pouring through the open window. I know Nathan hears it, too...

Most nights I end up dragging myself out of bed, throwing on a ratty old band shirt as I go, and head down the hall to Nathan's room to stay with him for the night, making a bed out of throw pillows on the floor. A lot of our nights were spent like that, whispering conversations to each other until the early hours of morning when the yelling would stop.

Some nights the yelling started later than I went to sleep, so I'd wake up to the slamming of doors and look over to find the sleeping silhouette laying on my couch.

It pisses me off how careless our parents are with their anger, spewing it onto me and Nathan, only worried about getting in a few hurtful words before bed so they can go to sleep angry and hurt.

When morning comes, we all sit around the kitchen table in dead silence, picking at our food with no appetite, me and Nathan exchanging glances and waiting for a minor inconvenience to come and set them both off again.

In most cases, me and him would say we were headed to school early, but that was only our cover story. We were actually using that extra half hour to go to the small grocery store on the corner to buy a box of dried out donuts and bitter coffee (in his case, chocolate milk) and we'd go sit in the middle of the city park people watching.

I try to keep Nathan away from the violence and dark energy of home as much as I can, but sometimes I fail at that and come home from school too late to discover Nathan is missing while my parents jab accusing fingers at one another, yelling about minuscule things that had angered them. 

Nathan nudges my arm and steals me away from my daze. I blink, coming back to Earth, suddenly reminded again of what is happening. 

"What do you want to do?" He asks quietly and I know he's trying to adapt to what I need and want. I look him in the eyes for a moment before shaking my head. "Nothing," I agree. "We'll stay here and wait for news."

~~~

The weeks kept coming, each day me and Nathan would come home, fearful again for what we might find. It gave me such bad anxiety that I ended up dropping gym to get home an hour before Nathan so I could search the house before he could. No kid deserves to see what he's seen.

After the initial hospital visit, Mom was put onto a whole new cocktail of medications to keep her happily subdued and passive. While it saddened me and Nathan because our once lively mother was suddenly left with little spare energy each day, it made things better. She was no longer angered easily or irritable, so as far as we could tell, the worst of her arguments with Dad had passed.

Even though things were somewhat better, they had also gotten much worse. Dad had taken up a new job that required him to work in a town three hours away, and with Mom's health rapidly declining and the bills piling up, we were in no position to move closer. He'd work Monday through Friday, and be home on Saturday and Sunday.

While he was gone, the responsibility fell to me and Nathan to give our Mom her daily medication dosages. She'd fall asleep in her bed for fourteen hours at a time, waking up groggy around noon. This is when she'd get her first round of medication for the day, so I got into the habit of coming home during my lunch hour to tend to her. 

I'd make her lunch and stay with her for a bit, sharing a timid conversation for a while before I had to go again. As much as I loved my Mother, her declining state of mind and the medication made her difficult to talk to. I could not be as lighthearted and joking with her as I used to. Her medication made her paranoid and any bit of sarcasm made her fear that as the truth. I got to the point where I only spoke to her in a straight-forward fashion. No more joking. 

I went out to get the mail one afternoon on a Saturday. As I pulled back the screen door to let myself back into the house, I noticed the first envelope on time was from the hospital. The front of the envelope was marked with a large, feather-edged red stamp reading final notice.

I sigh, flicking through the other envelopes, hoping a miracle might be hidden away in there. There wasn't. 

I kept it to myself, deciding ultimately that Nathan didn't need to know, my Mother isn't conscious enough to understand, and I'm the only one around to address it. My Dad would be back home for the weekend within the hour... I'd bring it to his attention then. 

I toss the mail onto the kitchen counter as I pass by, scooping up my Mother's medication box as I go, filling up a glass of water and climbing the stairs to her room on the second floor.

The walk to her closed bedroom door is a long, daunting one. I approach with fear in my chest, terror for the unknown for what'd I'd find on the other side of that door.

I push it open, blinking to adjust my eyes to the sudden darkness inside the room. The lace curtains are drawn, blocking out most of the light, leaving behind an ambient glow just bright enough for me to see the silhouette laying in the bed. 

"Mom? Time for your medication." I announce, walking toward her bedside, watching her carefully. In the dim light, her eyes flutter open, half-lidded and tired. Her gaze slowly drifts around the room before settling on my face, a smile crossing her face.

It was in moments like these that her remaining strength really shows. When she is still able to give me and Nathan her old, full, strong smiles. 

"Sam." She says, reaching for my hand, taking it in hers, her skin still warm and peachy. She hadn't lost her color yet, and even though these days she spends a lot of her time in bed, she still looks lively... Just subdued by the drugs.

"Samuel," She addresses me in a careful, thoughtful fashion. She looks at my hand in hers and pats the back of my hand. "I have a request."

"Really? Okay, what is it? Say it, and it's yours." 

"I'd like to get out of bed today." She says, her head lolling to the side to look out the curtained window. "This room gets so dark and bleak... I want to see my garden."

Of course, with it being the middle of March, there would not be much to see. All of her beloved flowers would be dead. Bits of dry stems and petals would be blowing in the brisk spring wind, tossing her hair and filling her with sadness to see that in her absence of being sick, the seasons had come and gone, taking with them her beautiful flower garden.

I grimace, gingerly placing my hand on hers, looking down at her hands for a moment while thinking over my response. 

"There's not much to see," I admit with a slight chuckle. "It's March." 

She frowned, but the determination remained in her eyes like a white-hot glow. "I still want to see it." She insisted.

I knew I'd be late back to school, and probably would just end up ditching the rest of the day. To me, this was a much more worthwhile way of spending my time. Within forty-five minutes, I had coaxed her into a sit, then got her to the edge of the bed to place her feet on the floor, and little by little I had gotten her to her feet, guided her down the hall, down the stairs, and out the back door to the garden. 

We stood there in silence, my elbow interlocked with hers to steady her, the collar of my sheepskin denim jacket pulled up around my neck to protect it from the chill. I looked straight ahead to the dead cherry blossom tree, not a single leaf to be seen on its big, bowing branches as the wind whacked against them. 

I look over to my Mother who is standing there in slippers and a long black trench coat; a novelty I hadn't seen her wear in months. She always wore it on her commutes to work, and its absence had been due to the inability to go. 

She looked up at that same tree with some strange degree of awe that I couldn't quite fathom. I couldn't get the same level of infatuation from it that she was... Whatever was going through her head.

"My son," She breathed after several minutes of silence. She doesn't look at me when she speaks, but I am attentive. Her eyes remain fixed on that dead tree for another sum of minutes before she continues her thoughts.

"You and your Brother mean the world to me. You are my world. You are my reason for going on. Sometimes the pain is unbearable beyond words and in my mind it would be the easiest thing in the world for me to just... Give up and wilt away, but..."

She pauses, turning her head toward me to look at my face. "I want to see my boys grow up, and become successful, happy men. I want to see your lives beyond today. I want to see you graduate, I want to meet Nathan's first girlfriend, and I want to come to your wedding and meet all the grandchildren. I want to see you both age to be like me, but lead a better life than I have. All I want in the world is for you two to be happy." 

I felt my throat tightening up and my eyes began to burn with tears. Her lips curved slightly into a soft, kind smile and despite her stiff, aching movements, she turned to pull me close to her, hugging me tightly.

The memory of my Mom standing in the windy, dead backyard hugging me was one of the last good memories I had of her.

The weeks would keep coming, and life would keep progressing. Unfortunately for us, it wasn't in a positive direction.

I kept sorting the mail, and soon enough we had a pretty wealthy collection of hospital bills and notices and not a dime to our name. I'd confronted my Father about it a few weeks back, and after he promptly decked me in the jaw, he told me with stone cold eyes and clenched teeth that if I cared so much about what happened to that wretch in the bed, I'd get my own damn job to pay the bills. So... That's what I did. 

I got a job working at the same corner gas station Nathan and I frequented. Only being fifteen at the time, it was very under-the-table, to say the least. And I only scored the job because the owner was a close family friend who understood our situation.

I worked as a stocker in the evenings, so after school and after I'd gone home and taken care of Mom and made dinner for Nathan, I'd head down to the gas station and get to work stocking shelves and keeping track of stock. It was a quiet, mundane job... I quickly fell into the nightly ritual of walking to and from the gas station in the dark, praying that when I got home to check on my Mother, that she'd still be with us.

Every night, Nathan would beg to tag along, to help me out and to keep me company. I obliged a few times, but most often would decline. Someone had to stay with Mom.

After that argument with my Father, he came home less and less. Weekends were no longer a promise and it got to the point where we only saw him once a month when he came back to take more of his clothes and belongings.

On one of these visits, he came home just as I was getting off work. I stood at the end of the driveway, staring up at the house as he climbed the steps and unlocked the door. I confronted him when I got inside.

"Where the Hell have you been?" I demanded, causing him to spin around in surprise, half expecting me to be Mom yelling at him. He narrowed his eyes at me, dropping his keys onto the kitchen cabinet, setting down his suitcase beside it on the floor. He looked unusual...

In my mind, someone going through the family crisis that he was, should look rough... Tired looking with dark circles under their eyes, unshaven with gritty stubble sticking out of their skin, and a tired furrowed brow underneath loose strands of overgrown, unkempt hair...

But no... He was nothing like that. He was clean-shaven, a fresh haircut keeping his dark hair slicked back and mysterious, and his crisp suit reeked of high-end cologne. He was by no means the same man who'd abandoned us four weeks ago, no, he was a changed man living a happier life cut off from us all. He hadn't struggled at all, not like we had.

"Samuel," he addressed me in an upbeat tone that was not at all happy. He had been hoping to get in and out completely unnoticed.

"Got any money on you?" I ask, yanking a crushed up white envelope from my pocket and pulling out six twenties, shaking them at him. "Because this is all I've got to keep this household running and to keep playing fucking house while you're out there dicking around, living the perfect life." 

"Sam-"

"Why don't you bother calling anymore? Nathan misses you."

"I don't think that'd be best." He replies, looking uncomfortable in his own home. The home he'd happily bought with my Mother during the early days of their marriage. 

"Why?" I hiss at him, stepping further and tossing the envelope onto the counter top in disgust. "Because you've moved on? Because you're happy? While you left us all here to decay like Mom? Me and Nathan destined to take care of her until she's in the grave?"

I stare him dead in the eyes. His discomfort quickly turns to anger as he jabs a finger at me. "Listen here, boy, I am doing everything I can to provide for this family."

"But you're not doing the most important thing." I mumbled, glaring at him.

"Oh?" He laughs sarcastically, "and what is that?"

"You're not here."

A humorless laugh slips from his lips and his cold stare is trained on my face. "The time for living a fantasy is over, son. Time for you to grow up and be a man. I can't baby you anymore with hugs and empty promises of everything's going to be okay. That's your Mother's job."

"It falls to you in her absence." I remind him with a dead stare. 

"And why would I do that?" He challenges, stepping closer to me, cocking his head thoughtfully to one side. "To soften the blow of the truth? It only makes you weaker when you allow those foolish things to enter your head. You've gotta be strong now, for Nathan's sake."

"Because I'm all he's got left." I mutter coldly, staring him down for a few moments of silence before sighing and averting my gaze. "If that's all you came to say, maybe you should just go now, before he catches wind of you. You've already got him all torn up doubting himself, the last thing he needs to know right now is that his own father is avoiding him during the hardest part of his life thusfar... But please... You do you."

I yank open the front door gesturing out toward his car. 

"Hold your horses, kid," he chuckles, leisurely walking around in the living room, taking his time, picking up medication bottles off the end table, reading over the name of the recipient. "I still got to get some fresh clothes and pick up some of my shit and then I'll be out of your hair, a'right?"

I firmly shake my head no. "Seeing as how you are no longer an active participant in this household, it's unfair that you get to benefit from it in any way," I say as I narrow my eyes at him. "Get out."

He laughs humorlessly, staring down his meek fourteen-year-old son guarding the doorway with dark, bitter eyes. 

"Fine." He mutters at last, scooping up his suitcase from the counter, toting it along over his shoulder as he strolls toward the front door. He gets to my side and pauses, not looking at me. "We'll see how long you can handle being Father. You should call me sometime... Something tells me you already know the number."

He walks down the faded front steps, the wooden beams creak underneath the weight of his nice, polished shoes. I watch him approach his car, hesitate on the drivers side for a moment before waving once in the most unfriendly manner and disappearing inside.

I watched his car until it turned at the end of the street, the anger welling up inside my chest and the tears in my eyes. I ended up punching the mailbox, got myself pretty good and left a decent dent in the innocent little black box. 

It was only after five minutes of rolling around in agonizing pain, screaming in anger and gripping my hand that I noticed it... The single long, white, business-style envelope sticking out of the top. There was no return address... Or even our address... The only identifying factor was the brilliant cursive handwriting in the center reading Morgan Family.

I drug myself off the ground, still moping, but too curious to be in much pain. I plucked it from its resting place, studying the penmanship and unusual thickness of the envelope carefully for way too long before cautiously ripping it open.

I peek inside, only seeing the ends of a stack of money, the middle of it wrapped in a piece of stationery. I fumble with the paper, pulling the note away from the bundle to read it.

"Cassandra,

I hope this finds you feeling better and you and your family in high spirits. I do miss you deeply and surely hope to have the opportunity to work with you again to continue our research. We could uncover so many of the world's secrets together.

Hopefully, this can provide you with some comfort and peace. Take care,

E"

I turn my attention to the money, holding it up in the dim light from the streetlight to make out the amount. They're crisp, new hundreds, their golden ink glimmering in the light dangerously. 

My breath catches in my throat. I thumb through the bundle held together by a money clip that looked like it was worth just as much as the bundle itself. As I flicked through them, muttering to myself each number, I could feel the shock settling into my bones.

Thirty hundreds, three thousand... Dollars.

I blink, unable to comprehend the massive number in my head. I hold them closer, searching the bills for signs of forgery, signs that it'd been a shitty prank.

Tears come to my eyes, but this time out of blissful, grateful joy. After my moment had passed, I scanned the envelope again for a name, anything at all to connect this immense act of kindness to someone I know. The initial "E" is too vague to get much from. From what I can gather from the letter, whoever this person is, they worked with Mom.

Mom has always been very open about her work, but some of her jobs, including this one, apparently, were meant to be kept secret. 

The following morning, I made my way to school with a big, relieved smile on my face. For the first time in almost a year, things were actually starting to look better and everything didn't feel so daunting.

During my lunchbreak I ran down to the bank to deposit half the cash, but was met with the reality that they don't just let anyone come in there demanding to deposit money into an account that is not theirs... Especially not a fifteen year old. 

I went back to school feeling a bit frustrated but still determined. I could still make this work, even if it's all in cash. I got the bills sorted once I got home, making sure that the ones stamped final notice got a special touch of attention to make sure that everything was right. 

A warm feeling of relief poured over me later that afternoon when Nathan and I had walked down to the post office to hand-deliver them. I looked at my brother, then back at the mail box we'd just dropped the envelopes into, feeling a new feeling of hope growing in my chest... A feeling I had believed to be long dead to me up until that point.

I didn't say anything to our Mother yet... Only because telling her that I'd fixed everything and that we are now currently financially stable would only cause her to panic knowing that we'd been in any kind of trouble to begin with. As far as I can tell, she is completely oblivious to our money struggles and Dad's departure, and I'd like to keep it that way. If being blissfully unaware is all she has left to rely on now, I am not going to be taking it away from her. 

Despite the spike in cash flow, I maintained my shelf stocking job at the convenience store. I had told no one about our mystery caretaker who had single-handedly swooped in and rescued us from all harm... I didn't even know how to start that conversation or how people would react, so I kept quiet... Plus, money has a habit of attracting all kinds of the wrong friends. 

A week following the arrival of the check, Mom had a good day where she wanted to go to the grocery store and help out with the shopping. She still had to take it slow, testing the strength of her own deterorating body and trying to learn her new limits. 

It had been three weeks since the letter arrived, and just as long since the last time we'd laid eyes on our Father. I knew exactly what he meant by me knowing where to find him... I know what he was alluding to and it had just caused me to grow bitter. His wife, whom he had been happily married to for over twenty years, was wasting away in their bedroom while he's off sleeping around. It breaks my heart when Mom asks about him, asking what day it is and what time he'll be home. 

By the fourth week, the money had gotten tight again. I'd used the bulk of the 3000$ to pay off all major bills and to keep the power on. A lot of it also went to covering hospital and medication bills. After that, I carefully planned and spent the remainder on keeping the kitchen stocked. 

I did have another endeavor in mind, as well. I'd been saving up my own money for a while, and on the Wednesday of that fourth week, I bought a used dirtbike from the family moving away at the end of the block.

I was parked in front of the convenience store after school on the Friday of that same week, cleaning up the bike a bit before starting my night stocking session later that hour. That's when our mailman approached me, still carrying his mail satchel over his shoulder.

"Hi, Samuel." He greets me cheerfully. He's this short, old man with a big grey mustache that almost completely covers his top lip. "How are things?"

"Great," I respond in a cheerful fashion, "Things are looking better now."

"That's great," He smiles, clapping me on the shoulder. "Hey, I forgot to deliver this one yesterday. It fell down between the seats, sorry about the delay."

He laid the envelope in my hands and I stared down at it, completely dumbfounded for a moment. I recognized that same cursive print adorning the paper. Except this time, it had an address. The last one had to have been hand-delivered by the donor. 

I scan over the return address and there is no name... Just a business title. Boston Antiquities. 

My Mother has a strong history of studying antiques from the Boston area. It would make sense that she'd end up getting employed by a fellow enthusiast. 

I leaned against my bike while ripping open the envelope, pulling out another thick stack of hundreds, bound by another note on a piece of high-end floral stationary.

"Cassandra,

I hope that my previous gift was able to help you more than it helped me. The presence of money tore my family apart, hopefully, it can do something positive for yours. Take care of yourself and your boys. I will continue to send more until you request an end. Please write back at your leisure, I would love to meet up with you sometime to catch up. 

Best regards, 

E."

I flicked through the stack, counting up the total to the fat number of 3,000 again. That same feeling of relief washing over me. We were gonna be okay, we were going to make it a few more weeks.

~~~

The weeks kept coming, and I kept playing caretaker to my Mother while keeping it quiet to friends and family that our Dad was pretty much nonexistent. If anyone caught on to the true nature of our tragic situation, we'd be handed over to the state immediately and me and Nathan would most likely find ourselves in different foster homes on opposite ends of the state.

I kept going to school... For a while, at least. With so many things in my life becoming unsteady terrain, the need to attend class each day grew less and less until I stopped going altogether. I forged a handwritten notice to the school in my Mother's handwriting and awaited the confirmation call or letter that would confirm my departure. After fourteen days of waiting, my request was processed and I was dropped from the school's roster. 

With all the extra time on my hands, I found myself really exploring my bounds and seeking out the other troubled people around me. I attended a few parties carrying myself with an aura of uncertainty, but it wasn't long before I fit in like the rest. 

During the nights when I was out until the early hours of morning, Nathan was home, getting caught up on homework. 

There's so much to cover between the point when I left school to the day when our Mom became too sick to do anything at all for herself. On that day, Dad finally returned and we all gathered as a family by her side for the last time. 

Well, that's how it seemed to the doctors swarming her bed... To the neighbors who knew about her impending doom... To the world.

I held back, leaning against the wall, arms crossed across my chest, watching my father with dark, angry, hurt eyes. A million different accusations swarming inside my head, begging to make an appearance in the form of venomous words rolling off my tongue.

I bit them back, refraining from ruining the moment for Nathan. I went to his side, placing my hand over his which were already holding one of Mom's. We looked at each other and back to her. Her eyes were already closed, we were just waiting and listening for when her air intake would slow to a broken wheeze before ending altogether. 

I counted the passing seconds in my head, each one feeling more and more like an anchor on my chest. Each one meant we were getting closer to the end and I couldn't stand the agonizing anticipation of that final moment.

"My boys," she breathed, voice raspy and hardly audible. "Promise me one thing..."

"What is it?" I whisper, leaning closer, straining to hear her words. 

"Promise me you'll make me proud, and always look after one another."

Seven seconds of silence followed, the only sound to break it up is Nathan's quiet sobs beside me. I look from her hands to her face, opening my mouth to respond but the moment is already gone, taking her soul with it.


	19. Misery

I looked at him, then at my feet. He sighs quietly, running a hand through his hair, his eyes troubled. I could look at him and hear him tell his story, but I could never, ever understand the level of pain he had gone through. The struggle he'd experienced while trying to take care of his brother in the absence of both parents goes above and beyond anything I myself have ever been through.

It sparked me with curiosity as a question crossed my mind, but looking at him now only told me that it was not yet the time to inquire.

We walked in silence for a moment before he spoke again, lightening the mood. "It's okay, though. Things are bound to get better, right?"

"If you can manage to stay out of fights, yeah." I laugh quietly, jabbing his arm. He smiles back before looking down at his feet. 

Aside from our light banter and the occasional hoot of the owls in the trees above, the night is quiet. When the absence of our voices follows, the crunch of gravel underneath the soles of our shoes makes up for it as we make our way onto Sarasota Road.

The street is plucked from any standard, cliche American suburb with every house built identically, painted varying shades of pastels. Each block is cornered by elegant iron streetlights working hard to keep the shadows at bay.

Sam looked over the address I had written on the sticky notes and began looking at the numbers on each house to find the one.

"It's a nice neighborhood," He notes conversationally, making an effort to positively motivate me. "A little stricter than where I grew up but still pretty nice."

I look at each home carefully, taking in their details and beauty. I've spent my whole life stowed away in that castle. Strangely enough, seeing these normal, modern homes in front of me now and imagining living in them feels more like a fairytale.

Each lawn is carefully mowed, not a blade of grass out of place. The bushes are trimmed, flower gardens kept neat and tidy, and there is a lantern emitting a warm, welcoming glow on every porch right above the bronze house numbers.

I try to imagine what kind of people call this place their home. What are their lives? Their daily schedules? What do normal people do every day while I walk the stone-lined halls of the historic orphanage, carrying my schoolbooks and daydreaming.

"Oh, here we go... 2307." He stops, pointing ahead at the house just across the street. I turn toward it, my breath hitching in my throat. I am quiet for a few minutes while I stare it down, looking for any imperfection in its appearance to give away that it is a bad place... I am somewhat disappointed to admit that there were none.

It's a single-story house with a two-car garage and a fully decorated front porch with hanging flowers hanging from the roof. The whole home is painted a soft pastel blue.

I look at its porch and cute, nicely-kept lawn and try to imagine myself standing there in something other than the orphanage uniforms that I've worn the last fourteen years. Perhaps even those Edwardian dresses I was promised.

"Well?" Sam prods, leaning against the neighbor's mailbox, resting his elbow atop it while staring across the street at the sleeping home that might soon be my own.

I keep looking at it for a few more moments before articulating my response. "It's not the horror house I imagined," I breathe, not looking at him. "It's not at all what I imagined, it's..."

I hesitate, trying to think of the right word to describe it before finally coming to the conclusion that the only word I can use to most accurately describe what I am feeling right now is the crap-house classic cliche magical.

It's magical... From its dozen hanging flower baskets on the eaves, to the white trim over the pastel blue, and the flowering trees standing in the front yard. it looks like it was plucked out of a 50's home and garden magazine. It's beautiful.

"It's more than I could have expected, it's above anything I could have thought up, it's... Home?"I look over at him, confusion in my eyes, and uncertain feeling in my stomach bringing on a wave of anxiety. "I don't know how to feel about it."

"Well, for starters, just looking at the place, is it somewhere you'd want to call home?" He gives me a look that sits in my heart. His brown eyes gleam from the lanterns all around us, lit up with excitement for me, and sadness for what it means when I leave. No more nighttime adventures.

I look away from him and back at the house, really looking at the finer details before sullenly nodding, my uncertainty falling away a little bit so I can think clearly. "Yeah... Yes, I think so.""And as for the couple themselves, how do you feel?"

"They were good... Awesome, even. They were so open and friendly... And just like their house." I chuckle, "magical and not what I expected."

"So... You going through with this?" He casts a look down at me. I turn toward him, hesitating a moment to take him in, his pastel blue shirt glowing underneath the full moon, his hair moving slightly in the breeze.

I take a deep breath, my nerves getting the best of me, causing me to start pacing in deep thought. "I don't know," I admit with a shrug. "I mean, I could definitely see myself living here, but..."

I stop and look at the house again. "There is something bothering me about it all."

"What's that?"

"Why would they choose me?"

He sighs softly, shoving off from the mailbox, getting ready to lecture me on my perception of myself before I interrupted him. "No, I mean, why me? Months away from my eighteenth birthday when I'd be moving out anyway. Why bother? Wouldn't you choose a younger kid who would get more out of a life like this?" I ask, gesturing around us at each perfect house, a confused look in my eyes.

I look at this house, trying to see a future of me within its walls that wont cause me to continue living in fear as I do now. It's too good to be true and has put a bad feeling in my soul.

He shrugs, standing beside me with his hands in the front pockets of his jeans, looking across at the squatty suburban house. "I don't know, maybe they're just nice people and this is what they do? Adopt elder teens to help them get a good start into adulthood with all the financial and loving support they could need?"

His rationalization makes it all feel a little better but I am still wary. I look into its dark windows, trying to feel its soul from the glass, trying to sense the aura of any horrors that have taken place inside its walls.

"I don't know what to make of it," I admit finally, taking a small step back. "It's all so beautiful and perfect... And too good to be true. It doesn't make any sense to me."

I narrow my eyes at the perfect little house, wanting so badly in the pits of my soul for it to be all that it seems, but, given my track record so far in life, I could never be so lucky. 

"You done snooping?" He asks after a long moment of silence and me glaring at the house had passed. I blink twice, bringing myself back to the present, looking over at him and nodding.

Being around Sam now is such a weird feeling. It's confusing, and conflicting... Multiple times this evening I found myself quickly falling back into my old ways, my heart leaping at the ribs surrounding it to get as close as possible to him at all times while I had never consciously agreed. This is all business but my heart betrays me.

Who the hell else was I going to get in the middle of the night to take me? Lena is as clueless as me when it comes to this stuff, at least Sam is street-smart and knows how to read a damn address. However, figuring it out myself and going alone might have been a bit less stressful on my emotions than inviting him along.

When I realize that I've stared too long, I quickly look away, averting my gaze anywhere else, feeling the burn of a blush under the skin of my cheeks that even in the pale blue light of midnight, I felt the need to hide.

He takes the initiative to start leading the path away. I look at the house one more time before following.

"Personally? If I were you? I'd go for it." He says once we've gotten to the edge of the block. The way he talks now sounds as though he is preoccupied thinking of other things. I try stealing glances at his face to get an idea of the things running through his mind but he is so good at keeping everything under lock and key. 

"Throw caution to the wind. Honestly, what do you have to lose?"

His question lands like a cold slap to the face. I am glad now that I had lingered a few steps behind him and he cannot see my face. I'm sure it's a sight. 

I swallow hard, looking anywhere else to keep the annoying tears of anguish from surfacing. They had done it far too many times over the last few weeks, and now I am sick of their presence and poor timing. Sam would never want to be around me again if I shut down and go into full crisis mode with no provocation. Keep it down, keep it under control.

"Nothing." I lie, and it stings. "There's nothing left for me back there."

"Exactly." He replies, his voice sharper than before, hurt even... Or maybe that's all I picked up because it's all I wanted to hear. The part of me that is still whole-heartedly pining after him is begging and pleading for him to finally make his mutual feelings known, but he never does and I know that deep in my sinking heart, he never will because there are none. 

"I have to admit, I'll miss you when you go." He says with a nonchalant shrug, pushing back the overgrown branches of a bush that had overtaken part of the sidewalk. I hesitate a moment before realizing that he is holding back the boughs for me with a patient, timid look on his face. I give him a small smile of thanks and hurry past, mentally scolding myself for being the most awkward piece of shit to roam the planet. 

"But, I'm sure you'll have lots of new adventures out here, and after the long imprisonment you experienced in there, you need it more than anyone. I hope more than anything you find what you're looking for."

It is very difficult for me to not stop right there and spill my heart to him under the full moon and explain everything. My heart is pounding so hard and I am starting to feel physically sick. 

"Hey, you good?" He asks, pausing mid-step to look back at me as I lean forward, clutching my knees for support and taking in a good, long deep breath. I hesitate a moment before nodding once in response, too unsure of myself to trust myself to vocalize a yes. 

"You're not gonna die or something are you?" He asks, stepping toward me and placing a hand on my shoulder which only seems to make the whole situation worse. "Here, come sit down a minute."

I stubbornly protest against him as he nudges me toward the nearby wrought iron bench sitting in the cool blue shadows of a flowering cherry blossom tree. I grudgingly sit down, the wood planks squeaking slightly beneath my weight. 

I immediately cross my legs and fix my eyes on the sky; anything to distract my mind from its pathetic list of go-to pity thoughts. I really need to find a way to kick this bad habit before it destroys me.

He sits down beside me, leaving a foot-long gap between us. I have to work overtime to distract myself with every possible thing, trying to find fascinating designs in the stars, to trying to count how many branches are over my head. Every one of those minuscule tasks come to a stuttering halt when he speaks.

"At least it's a nice night, right?" He says in a light, semi-joking tone. But there's also a hint of shy awkwardness that I find both endearing and unusual. Sam isn't the awkward one ever. He's the charismatic one who could talk himself out of any trouble and never seems to be at a loss for words.

I nod in agreement, shifting my gaze as far away from his face as possible so that I can't even see him in my peripheral view. I need to clear my head again if I want even a chance at getting through this night in one piece. Now that I've gotten what I came out here for, we could go back.

The bench squeaks again and I feel him shift his weight, scooting closer. If my heart was already beating at my ribs before, you can only imagine what happened when I felt his hand reach over and enclose mine. 

I have to force myself to keep focusing on the stupid little details of the street to keep myself from looking down at his big hand encasing my frail one. Nothing could cover up my panic, though.

He doesn't say anything else, and it doesn't seem like he even needs to. With his right hand holding mine, his left hand reached up to brush my chin ever so slightly to bring my face back to face his. 

My breath caught in my throat with no hope of moving again. I am seizing up right there on the spot, everything blinking out of existence in my mind, leaving it a barren, empty wasteland of chaos while my thoughts leap all around.

His face is a mere few inches from mine, brown eyes fixed on mine so intently it feels wrong, like I am not the kind of person who deserves to be looked at like that. I want so badly to rip my gaze away again, to look anywhere else but his face but it is all that I see. His dark eyes bordered by long lashes and the spray of light rust-colored freckles across his cheeks and nose are the only thing in my line of sight.

He looks me in the eyes for a few more seconds before his own gaze flits elsewhere, to my lips for the briefest second, then back to my face.

There is some kind of unspoken agreement we share in that moment. His hand which had previously been resting just under my chin moves to cup the left side of my face, his fingers running through the loose strands of blonde hair which had escaped the braid, his hand coming back around to cup the back of my neck, his thumb grazing my ear. 

His fingers curled just around the base of my neck, just enough to get a good enough grip to pull my rigid form toward him.

In the next instant, he was bringing our faces close together, hesitating for a moment, skin almost touching. The anticipation could have killed me right then, the nerves in my heart working hard to make me panic and feel terrible anxiety.

All at once, he pressed his lips down on mine and my world exploded in the most cliche way possible. Every doubt, second-guess, fear, pain, and worry had come to a complete end as though the simple act of him putting his lips to mine had been the cure for each and every one of my qualms. 

I can't quite put it in words or accurately describe the feeling it filled me with. For the first time in my life, I felt as though I might really mean something to someone. For once, I'm not just a fleeting thought, a single spot of dust just gracing through their vision, no, I feel something more.

My panic is trying to swoop back in to trick me into believing that it is all wrong. This time, I fight back. I suppress the urges to tear away and look away embarrassedly only to regret it all tomorrow. Even if this ends up being a fleeting moment in my life, I'm going to enjoy every last second of it.

I sheepishly force myself to put in some effort, pushing my lips back against his, reaching up to place my hand against his cheek and jaw. I can feel his lips curving up slightly into a smile as he kisses me back. The seconds pass, a blissful break in my quiet life on this dim night. The moment has to come to an end eventually, though.

He pulls away, lingering close for a moment before opening his eyes and looking into mine which I am sure are full of terror and fear that he'd frown and say that he'd made a mistake and was sorry... But he didn't.

He leans back against the backrest of the bench, the silence hanging between us dense and slightly uncomfortable. I don't know exactly what I expected to feel after the excitement had died down but I did not expect the wave of discomfort and uncertainty. We'd both gone so into the moment, the brief blur of intimacy quickly boiling down to two awkward teens sitting on a bench, nervously looking at one another. 

"Wow." I murmur, laughing awkwardly to myself, stealing a sideways glance over at him to gauge his reaction. I'd been so caught up in the moment it hadn't even crossed my mind to check myself and see if I was doing any good at it. I'm sure I was the equivalent of kissing a stone.

He chuckles, reaching up to scratch the back of his neck, scanning the street in front of us before looking back at me with bright eyes and a sheepish smile on his face. "Was it everything you hoped it would be?" He joked in a light, teasing tone.

I take a deep breath and hold it for a moment, giving my heart a chance to chill the fuck out before replying. "To be honest, I don't know what the hell I expected."

Of course, it would be me to ruin the moment by getting too wrapped up in my head. My joy comes to a fluttering halt and sinks my heart when my brain takes control again and I realize something tragic. I hold up my hands, shaking my head, scooting back into the corner of the bench as far from him as I can manage in the small space. 

"Wait, no... We can't do this. You're with Crystal, it's wrong for you to even want me when you're with someone else, I can't-" I pause to take in a deep, panicked breath, my heart still pounding hard and my hands shaking from the overload of excitement and simultaneous disappointment. I can't bring myself to look over at him again, scared to see what his reaction would be. 

"I shouldn't have gone after you so hard when I knew you were already in another relationship. I should have kept my distance and this would not have happened..." I trail off my stream of self-blame, shaking my head regretfully. 

"I can't be a fling, a sideshow exhibit, the pretty part-time girl on your arm, I couldn't be like that around you knowing that you're already with someone else. I couldn't bring that kind of pain down on another girl."

I risk a tiny peek at his face, only to see the deep frown set in place, his brow pinched up in thought. Finally, he speaks. "Missy, when I went to visit Crystal last night, it was not to continue the fling, no, I went to end it. Crystal and I are no more."

Shock settles into my bones, stealing me away for a moment. My imagination quickly cooks up the visual of them arguing and ending things in her apartment before he walked back on his own in the dark. However, I have my doubts because the last time they argued, it ended with them sleeping together while I and Nathan hung around in the living room twiddling our thumbs.

I shake my head, ignoring his statement. "Okay, but it doesn't really change things. It just makes me the rebound and casualty of a bad situation."

He sighs, sounding tired by oddly amused. "Michelle," He addresses me with my full first name, which comes with a wave of shock for me. He never calls me that. He looks me in the eyes in silence for a moment before proceeding, arm draped chilly over the back of the bench "I've been going back and forth about this shit the last couple weeks, going back and forth between outcomes, trying to find the path that fixes things. Along the way, I came to a realization that felt as cold as a slap to the face."

I'm frustrated and maybe a bit angered. I sit there, arms crossed and staring straight ahead, however my curiosity perks up and I can't go on without knowing the answer.

"And what was that?"

He holds up a finger to tell me to wait a minute while he leans forward, reaching into the pocket of his jeans, pulling out a small paper box and something metallic. I study them in the dim light with a confused look on my face before realizing what they are. "Where the hell did you get those?! You smoke?"

He lolls his head over to give me a look that says its a whole separate conversation and continues with his answer to the previous question. 

"In the middle of the night, when I was lying sleepless in bed, my mind swimming in a chaotic sea of thoughts, the waves parted when you came to mind... And in that moment, I realized that I did, and do in fact, like you back. It took me too damn long to realize it, but I did."

He pauses for a moment, balancing a cigarette between his lips while he lights it with a silver Zippo lighter, his face scrunching up in concentration for a moment until the tip catches fire and he takes a puff. "That was the night before last. The following morning, I began working out my plans to meet up with Crystal to end things."

Smoke rises from his lips, the cloud of grey blurring the stars above his head. I study the swirling pattern in silence. 

My heart is pounding anxiously at his words, unable to handle the prospect of actually being loved back instead of my desperate one-sided pining. My heart seemed to run away with my mind then, dreaming up the colorful candy-colored daydream illusions that would paint our life together... The smiling, laughing, and running together, the prominent feeling for the need to be forever young sticking out in my mind. 

I blink to clear my thoughts, looking back over at him, narrowing my eyes slightly as I take in his face, trying to capture and copy every detail to my memory to adore later in my dreams. I place my hand under my chin, locking eyes with him again.

"Okay then... Tell me what this all is, then." I murmur, knowing full-well that if I dare speak any louder, my voice would crack and grow shrill in panic and excitement. I sit there, leaning forward in anticipation, bathed in the pale blue moonlight, watching him. 

A soft, proud smirk adorns his lips and he looks up at the sky while he taps his fingers against the backrest of the bench before pulling his gaze back to mine, beautifully shadowed eyes stuck on mine and distracting me from everything around me. His voice is slightly muffled by the cigarette hanging from his lips as he responds, a gleeful smile still on his face as he does so. 

"I'd ask you what you want to be, but I know that'd be torture for you," He says with his smirk, laughing quietly, reaching out to brush his hand against my cheek, catching a loose strand of my hair between his fingers, weaving it between each one absentmindedly while keeping his eyes on my face. 

"Nothing to say?" He challenges smugly and I laugh, looking down. My mind is blank and busy all at once, too much happening inside of it to get it to work properly. 

I hum in response, raising my eyes to his again, watching him take another drag from his cigarette, the intake of air causing the embers at the end to glow a brilliant shade of orange. He catches my gaze and pulls it from his lips, extending it toward me. 

"Let me corrupt you."

I study it for a moment, my brain going red alert just looking at it, hearing the Sisters screaming in my head about how cigarettes are bad and alcohol is bad and drugs, and sex, and intimacy, and anything on Earth worth living for. 

I ignore the screeching in my skull as I reach for it, those angel voices going quiet as I bring it to my lips, trying to figure the thing out well enough to look cool on my first go. I'm disappointed to find that I end up looking like a choking cat when the smoke comes pouring from my mouth. I cough, wiping my face and leaning away, holding his cancer stick toward him again.

He chuckles, taking it back. "Not quite your speed?" 

I cough again, attempting to laugh, shaking my head. "I don't even know if I like it or not, my lungs are being pieces of shit. Maybe some other time."

He shrugs in a fair enough fashion and takes another drag while I have a moment to compose myself again, the humor draining away from my aura when I look at him nervously, cupping my hands together, fingers interlocked. "So... To answer my previous question... What's the answer? What does that make us?"

He is thoughtful, casting his eyes down at the cigarette between his fingers for a second before answering in a slow, pondering voice. "I wouldn't mind exploring what there is to be seen between us."

"In English, please."

He laughs quietly. "Right. Let's try it, take things easy, and just see how they go. Thoughts?" 

"Okay." I agree simply, digging around in my mind for anything productive to add. "Well, you're going to have to lead the way on this one."

He looks at me with mild confusion. "Why's that?"

I laugh nervously, shaking my head, strands of hair falling across my face from the movement. "I'm a complete fool when it comes to this kind of stuff. I'm an uneducated dunce who's knowledge of love is little to zip. They don't teach that shit at the orphanage and I picked up very little from Fran and seeing the other kids sneaking around. I'm not completely oblivious, I know how it all works, it's just putting it to use in my own life that is giving me problems." 

"I've got you, then." He says with a goofy, crooked smile, reaching out to brush my cheek with the back of his hand. 

My heart is doing gleeful little backflips in my ribcage, rejoicing by itself at this little victory. It often feels like me and my heart are separate entities with different identities, perhaps my heart looks like one of those goony cartoon characters complete with arms, legs, eyes, and a whole personality. So imagining that happy little guy dancing around in my chest also made me pretty happy. 

I smile at him, enjoying the moment for a little longer. After a few minutes, I knew we'd need to get moving again if we were planning on getting back before first light. I lean forward on my knees a bit, looking over at him. 

"So then... Saying it simply... We're together?" I ask, the words feeling foreign on my tongue. I smile privately to myself at them, how they sound, and how they make me feel. It brings me an indescribable level of joy. 

He smiles slightly but then breaks into a full-on grin. "We're together." He agrees with a nod, reaching for my hand, gripping it tightly in his, squeezing it in reassurance. 

No matter what lies ahead, I can smile now and do my private victory dance knowing that I at least got to kiss Samuel Morgan. And that my friends, is pretty fucking cool.


	20. Love

The blinding light coming through the windows woke me from my groggy state. I opened one eye, peering out from under my arm draped halfway across my face, my hair a chaotic mess all around me. 

Immediately, my heart is pounding and I feel anxious. It takes a moment for my brain to catch up and to remember everything that happened the previous night. It brings a smile to my face which I quickly have to cut back and restrain to keep Lena from noticing. 

I see her at her bed across the aisle from mine, straightening her bedding and pulling the rubberband tighter on the end of her braid. Her eyes flicker over to me through the sea of movement around the room as the other girls hurry to get ready. 

Her gaze moves from my face to my cardigan folded over the end of my bed where I'd left it the night before. Her eyes narrow at me suspiciously and she gets a sneaky smile on her face. She probably would have confronted me right then about it if Sister Sarah had not come into the room to make sure everyone was awake and getting a move on.

"Michelle, up, girl, up!" She shooed her hands at me as she passed my bed. In ordinary circumstances, I would have moaned and groaned and rolled around in my bed for a while longer until one of them would come to forcefully drag me from the sheets to the shower. But today, I am in a particularly good mood and am confident that nothing could dampen it now.

I get up, stretching my arms over my head, the ache in my shoulders a good reminder that I hadn't dreamt it all up. My muscles only ache after a night of scuttling around on the rooftops and causing chaos, which we definitely did.

No one ever told me what the whole morning after feeling was or how it felt... I know the term generally applies to the morning after sex, but for me, it's the morning-after-feeling of falling in love. That kiss was the most passionate, erotic thing to happen in my short life on Earth and I'll be damned if I don't admit that it was fucking exhilarating. Just thinking about it again got my heart pounding and my head dizzy. I really wish Fran was here...

It's a whole new world to me, and it's damn exciting. The entire time I was getting dressed and brushing out my hair, I was thinking ahead, of all the things in store, in a hurry to get to the good parts before being reminded by Sam's chastising voice in my head that we were to take things slow...

If my theory is right, the real reason he wants to do that is because of my history with intimate encounters... Kyle wasn't a nice guy, he did some really crappy stuff to me and I'm certain a few other girls who never came through. His actions against me have certainly added in making me apprehensive toward the whole sex scene, but everything else is untainted and new to me, which I am grateful for. I really hope that wherever Kyle ended up, he's getting what he deserved, that fuck. 

The kissing, the handholding, the secret meetings at the clock tower, all of it a whole new, cool thing. Plus imagine Nathan's excitement when he gets the news that things worked out after all! Things could really be changing for the best now.

My joyful revere was cut short when Fran approached me, asking in a muted voice to keep it out of earshot of the other girls. "So what's on your mind today? Have you made up your mind about the adoption?"

Her question shatters my world, bringing me back to reality. I feel my heart sink with dread as I realize she's right. I can't get out of this adoption unless I sabotage the whole thing, which would be possible, but it also might jeopardize my record of good standing at the home, prompting the sisters to send me elsewhere, away from Sam anyway.

With me turning eighteen in a few months and Sam next month, we could reconnect on the other side... But then there's still Nathan stuck in this place, no matter, we could just bust him out and-

"Missy!" Lena hisses at me, snapping my back again. She snaps her fingers at me, leaning into my field of vision, narrowing her eyes at me suspiciously for a moment before widening them and stepping back, her mouth forming the shocked 'o' of dread.

"Oh no..." She breathed, "No, not you, too!" 

"What do you mean not me, too?" I ask her in a lighthearted tone, folding up my quilt and laying it across the foot of my bed while waiting for her response. 

"You've got that look on your face," She says, wrinkling her nose at me. "The same look Fran had not two months before she ran away with Liam. Please, Missy, before you say anything else, just assure me now that you're not leaving me like that."

She's holding her hands up in a panicked state of surrender. I laugh softly, placing a hand on her shoulder for a moment before allowing it to slide off. "I'm not running anywhere, Lee." I remind her with a smile. "I'm just stuck in my own head right now, that's all."

"You're in love, then?" She asks, lowering her voice and looking around the room at the dwindling girls. 

The way she says it is so point-blank, leaving me with very little wiggle room to work with. I can't avoid it, and honestly, I don't want to. Lena is my last good girlfriend in this place, I need someone to confide all these feelings in instead of keeping them bottled up in my brain. Another gleeful smile crosses my lips and I cast my gaze downward. 

Lena is giggling hysterically, dying for the details that she probably already knew. "Who is it?" She asks before making a face that answered her own question. Shock crossed her face, then a big, surprised grin. "You skank!" She hisses at me in laughter. "It's him, isn't it? That damn Samuel Morgan."

"It always is." I laugh, the butterflies in my stomach going crazy at the mere mention of his name. I look into her eyes for a moment, seeing her own excitement. 

"It's about damn time!" She cackles, "I've been rooting for you for months. You might not have noticed, but when you guys went through your period of silence, I was genuinely heartbroken about it. You two look good together." 

I puff out with pride, feeling like a damn peacock right then. 

"Fran would be thrilled, she was always trying to get you to notice the boys."

I cast my gaze aside awkwardly, feeling my cheeks grow red. On occasion, Fran had persisted to try and get me to meet up with the other boys at the home, usually ones I had nothing in common with. I'd usually get out of it by just ghosting them. 

"And I like Sam, he's a good guy. Seems sweet, and dedicated to whatever he loves. Have you see how that man looks after his brother?" She pauses to take a sharp, deep breath, shaking her head. "That's a catch, you know. Father material-"

"Lena!" I snap in embarrassment, clamping a hand over her mouth and looking around the room. The blush burns in my cheeks, getting darker I'm sure. She was simply vocalizing one of the many thoughts that had been plaguing me over the months since I realized I liked him. It's weird... Once you realize you have a crush on someone, suddenly you're already daydreaming about your entire future together even if they're completely oblivious to your existence. 

She laughs again, patting my shoulder in reassurance, "Don't worry, I'm just trying to ruffle your feathers. Nothing's more fun than poking at the freshly in-love, they're so flighty and scatterbrained."

She gives me a genuine smile, her hand falling away from my shoulder. "It's good to see you happy."

~~~

We make it to the lunchroom in time for breakfast. Lena sticks close to my side, helping me scan the crowd for him. Almost like heat vision, I zone in on him within a few seconds sitting with Nathan at a table under one of the big windows, no one else occupying the other seats. I was already headed their direction when Lena tugged on the collar of my shirt, yanking me back.

"Hold up, Cinderella. You need to eat otherwise you'll be passing out and useless all day. Breakfast is the most important meal of the day, you know. Can't skip it."

She nods at me matter-of-factly, keeping me in line with her. I do my best to avert my gaze elsewhere, but it keeps going back to him, locking in on his face, trying to memorize it even from this distance. 

We get through the line, and within five minutes we're headed toward them through the crowd, me with the butterflies in my gut going completely psycho and my anxiety flaring up causing me to doubt my own memories.

"Anyone sitting here?" Lena asks, indicating to the two chairs across from them.

Sam looks up at her, then at me, confusion in his eyes making my heart sink immediately. "...And you are?" He inquires. 

I could have sworn I felt a heart attack coming on right then, but then he laughed, clapping Nathan on the back who was laughing too. "Yeah, you're sitting there. Pull up a seat, take a load off."

He kicks back in his seat a bit, leaning back against the backrest, looking around the rest of the lunchroom, seemingly ignoring me on purpose before finally allowing me the satisfaction of meeting his gaze. A polite smile graces his lips, "Good morning, m'lady."

Sweet fucking damn I could get used to this.

My words get stuck in my throat, leaving me completely mute to his endearing comment. I settle for responding with a smile. 

"So my understanding is that you two are finally a thing? After what? Five months?" Lena asks Sam, picking at the food on her tray.

Sam gets all giddy, casting his brown-eyed gaze down at the table where I can see the pink pigment on the skin of his cheeks from him blushing. 

Lena laughs, "It's about damn time, that's all I can say."

Nathan is in a good mood today like the rest of us. He's more lively than usual, engaging in the conversations. He doesn't outright share his thoughts on my current union with his brother, but from the way he is beaming like a damn sunbeam, it must be only good thoughts.

Nathan had expressed to me one night that he'd never seen his brother be loved by anyone. Not really, anyway. Not fully. It was always a fling, a fleeting moment of mutual feelings before burning up. I make a mental vow right there not to let it end the same way.

My gaze falls onto his again, his eyes are locked with Lena while they converse. I'm not really listening to the words, just hearing his voice, memorizing everything I can with more intensity than before. Everything feels different now and it's only the first day. 

"I heard whisperings that there's going to be another party, soon." Nathan pipes up, getting a narrow-eyed look from his brother. 

"Yeah? Not like you're going to be going. Where'd you hear that?"

Nathan scowls at him, looking like he's about to go on to lecture his brother about how he is 'old enough' to participate but ultimately decides to answer the latter question. 

"Bryce. He hangs out with a lot of the older boys between classes, he'd probably know."

"Any idea when this fantastic little outing is going to be taking place?" Sam inquires with a sly, charismatic smile gracing his lips. 

"The night of the fourth." Nathan replies. That puts the party on the night of Fourth of July, only a week and a half away. 

"Well then," Sam says, leaning over the table slightly on his elbows, locking eyes with me. "Sounds like a date."

"Aww, seriously guys, you're going to make me cry." Lena fakes sobbing, I jab her in the ribs, getting up and collecting the trash to take. When I reach for Sam's tray, he catches my hand and smiles up at me. 

"Wanna meet me tonight?"

"You know I will. Clocktower?"

He nods, letting go of my hand slowly. I trail my fingers over his before departing, a massive smile forming on my face once I've got my back to him. A gleeful squeal might have been emitted if I weren't surrounded by so many hyper-aware teenagers. 

Technically, nothing had really changed yet. We were meeting up in the same places, same time, and doing the same things, yet now they feel more fantastic and filled with meaning and purpose besides just wandering the cobblestone rooftops, navigating the air conditioning units to look up at the sea of stars just over the orphanage. 

We all united at the exit to head outside to the courtyard. Lena sort of leads the way, talking up a storm with Nathan about celestial patterns while Sam lingered slightly by my side before shyly curling his fingers around mine. I look down at our hands entwined and it brings a smile to my face. I lean over to place a quick little kiss on his freckled cheek.

I laugh when I see he cheeks turning dark pink again. He presses his lips into a content, shy, tight-lipped smile and looks down at the ground to hide the look on his face, but I'd already seen it. 

We stood around in the center of the crossroads where two of the sidewalks intersect in the middle of the courtyard. I look over my shoulder, lots of students are hurrying around to get things done before the bell. We'd only been there for maybe a minute before I heard obnoxious snickering, prompting me to turn around, looking for the source. 

. A group of three older boys are walking by, throwing sideways glances at me and chuckling amongst themselves. 

"What's that about?" I mutter under my breath in confusion, turning to see if anyone was acting like a victim of alien abduction. To my confusion and horror, I noticed a girl and her friend looking my way, one of them pointing in my direction. That can't be good.

"Are they always this damn crooked?" Sam asks in confusion, turning to look around the courtyard at all the folks walking past our group, almost all of them, as though they had magnets in their eyes, locked eyes on me immediately.

"I have no fucking clue what's going on..." I breathe, trying to find the source of excitement. 

"Holy Hell, Michelle, did you sit on a ketchup packet or did you spring a leak?" cackled a boy by the name of Erik. He walks by behind me, flashing a smile at me before his gaze fell to my backside. 

"What?..."

It took a moment to sink in, and then the horror came. I craned my neck around to look down the back of my skirt, pulling the pastel blue fabric away from my body to look down at the huge, oblong red circle staining the fabric. 

"Crap!" I hiss, wadding up the soiled fabric to hide it from more bystanders, feeling my cheeks turning red in the worst form of embarrassment. I shoot a panicked look at Sam, expecting to see a look of complete disgust and discomfort on his face. Instead, surprisingly, he has a sort of concentrated, game face on. 

"Nathan, go to my locker and grab my jacket. Lena, help me get her to the benches."

Nathan took off running toward the main building and Sam took the crumpled fabric and rearranged it himself, folding a sharp crease over it and pressing it against my thigh, concealing the worst of the stain inside. "Hold it there, Lena, is there any more?"

Lena looks me over, shaking her head. "No, I don't see anything else. I'll run up to the nurse's station and get her something for it."

Another small clan of snickering boys walk by, prompting Sam to extend a matching pair of middle fingers in their direction. I walk briskly toward the bench, taking a seat and throwing paranoid glances over my shoulders. The crowd had disbursed now, leaving just me and Sam sitting in the shade of the big oak tree. 

I sigh, leaning forward, my hair falling across my face while I bury my face into my hands, groaning loudly. "This is so fucking embarrassing," I mutter under my breath, "Damn it, I'm sorry." I make an effort to conceal my face in my hands to hide my own embarrassment. 

He laughs, but it's not mocking. "Why? It's not like it's something you could have helped."

His words make me feel a tiny bit better. However, I'd still have to face the rest of the school that would be whispering amongst themselves in boredom because sharing the fascinating story of the girl who got her period would be considered news.

"I know but... Surely it's embarrassing for you to have to help me with it. It's certainly embarrassing for me."

He presses his lips together thoughtfully, shrugging, the breeze tossing his tousled brown hair. "I've got no one to impress here. Let them talk."

I admire his go with the flow attitude and envy it. The things that would cause me to come unhinged are nothing more than simple inconveniences to him. I take a deep breath and remind myself to chill out. It's still fucking embarrassing - no changing that, but I could at lease stand to laugh about it a little. Life is too serious.

I still feel uncomfortable, though. Sitting there twiddling my thumbs, feeling the uncomfortable stickiness between my thighs indicating that it is getting much worse. I silently pray for Lena to hurry it up.

"So, that party?" He pipes up conversationally, making an effort to distract me from my qualms. "Interested in going?"

I take a deep breath, holding it for a moment while I think. "As long as we're sticking together this time. My petty bullshit mixed with a drugged drink was my downfall last time."

"True. At least Kyle's gone now," He agrees, "and don't you worry, I'll be stuck on you. I'm committed to making this time funner than last time."

"Oh?" I challenge him doubtfully, "What do you have in mind to make an undercover private party in the warehouse of a catholic orphanage more exciting?"

"I really think it'd be fun to wait until most of them are too drunk and high to function and then go and wake up the nuns to crash the party. Imagine them trying to get out of that one." He cackles, proud of his plan.

"You're evil. Deliberate sabotage?"

"It's the only way any party like that should end." He says confidently with a wink.

"You're really working hard to distract me, aren't you?" I sigh, never quite able to block out what's happening to me. There's still the next step, which is me getting to the bathroom to clean up and hurry to class. Just judging from the last few students milling around in the courtyard, class is about to start.

"Well, since we're in this situation, I might as well ask..."

"Ask what?" I reply in confusion, narrowing my eyes at him.

"Are you more of a pad girl or a tampon girl?" He asks in an innocent, nonchalant tone that would be better fit for asking one's opinion on two different sports teams.

I groan loudly in exasperation, throwing my head back. "NO." I reply sharply, shaking my head to fight off the violent flushing in my cheeks. "Nope, nope, nope, we're not having that discussion."

He's cackling. "Why not?"

I give him a firm, cold look. "Sam. No."

He smiles slyly but lets it go. "How long should she be?" He inquires, looking around. Just then, we both spot Nathan jogging back with Sam's denim jacket tucked under his arm, wheezing and out of breath.

"I ran the whole way." He sighs as he hands to to Sam, who then hands it to me. I take it, carefully accepting it, immediately wary that I might accidentally destroy his iconic jacket in the few seconds I am holding it.

"You can tie it around your waist when you head to the bathroom. Lena can take you, I need to get Nathan to class."

"That's fine," I nod, almost making a comment that was meant to be reassuring but would have sounded way too dirty for the first day of our relationship. I quickly bit back that one.

Lena came back within the minute, motioning for me to join her by the entrance to school building. I sigh, praying to the good God above that when I stand up I don't get to experience the parting of the red sea. I rise slowly, cautiously, and when nothing feels too icky, I prepared to tie Sam's jacket around my waist before hesitating.

"Wait, what if I ruin it or something? Not trying to be too much information here, but-"

"You're good." He replies. "Baking soda exists."

I give him a confused look. "Baking soda?"

"It's a Godsend for getting out bloodstains. Let's just say I got into a fight or two back when I was in middle and high school, I had to learn all the secrets to saving my clothes or my Mom would have had my ass. Seriously, Missy, it's fine."

"Yeah... But it's icky blood." I mumble in embarrassment.

"Blood all the same."

I still feel really uncomfortable about it, but comply without further comment, tying the sleeves loosely around my waist. "Well, you two better get to class before you get another strike. I'll catch you tonight and will bring you back your jacket then."

He rises from his seat, shooing Nathan along to get a headstart before stepping toward me, causing my heart to start pounding. "I shall see you then." 

He winks before turning to follow his brother to the school building. Before he gets too far, I call to him. 

"Sam?"

"Hm?" He hums in response, turning halfway back toward me. 

"Thank you." I say simply, hoping it covers and conveys well enough the absolute appreciation I have for his actions to assist me. He could have laughed and made fun, or made a spectacle out of it, or ignored it and hoped it go away altogether... But he didn't. It feels really strange to admit to myself that he cares for me this much after all we'd been through in the last few months.

A smile graces his lips, bringing light to my soul. "You're welcome." He replies before continuing on his way. 

~~~

To spare you the horrific details of the events that followed, allow me to simply state that I for one am so glad to have an amazing group like those three around me now. Had it been just me right then, I probably would have hidden away and fretted over what the school was thinking about me.

Of course, the story had probably made its rounds because the students literally have fucking nothing else to do but spread petty rumors, but Sam, Lena, and Nathan had worked quickly to minimalize the casualties.

I rinsed the worst of the stain out and sighed, facing myself in the mirror before letting my eyes trail down to where my abdomen would be under the ugly button-up uniform shirt. "Do you even like me?" I mutter at it, glaring at the space between my hips as though it'd be enough to tell my uterus to shut itself off. "You're a piece of shit, you know." 

Here I am, already feeling embarrassed and awkward as fuck around him, just barely dipping my toes into the sea of relationships, and this was the first day. The. First. Damn. Day. Of course, it'd be my luck.

I got cleaned up and kept the jacket on, the sleeves tied around my waist, not that I really needed it anymore. There is just a certain level of pride associated with getting to have an article of his clothing with me. I haven't ever gotten to experience this, so the boyfriend/girlfriend quirks that are second nature in the normal, outside world are barely more than mythical tales to me. I have to figure this all out on my own. 

During class, I found myself absentmindedly running my fingertips over the rough denim fabric, the soft fibers scratching at my skin. I'd have to give it back to him tonight, but for now I'm soaking up in the joy of having his denim.

After classes were over for the day, I met up with Lena in the chapel. She was sitting in the back row, head bowed in silent prayer. I sat beside her, the wooden pew squeaking softly under my weight. I wait for her to finish, looking up at the large wood carving of Jesus on the crucifix on the wall at the front, hanging between two large, ornately decorated stained glass windows depicting the crucifixion.

She opened her eyes, closing with a quiet amen before averting her gaze to me. "So? How did your day go?"

"Aside from the red river? Good." I say with a nod.

"You look flustered." She comments, looking over my face, "Something on your mind?"

"What isn't on my mind?" I laugh quietly, keeping my voice down and eyes on the other folks spread out throughout the pews in silence. "Let's get out of here and I'll tell you about it."

We exit the chapel together and I slowly get into explaining my thought process, briefly going into the events from the night before, only enough for her to get an idea how fucked I am. 

"I don't know how to be girlfriend material," I admit with a shrug, "What the hell am I supposed to do?"

"Fran would have an answer for you." She muses quietly, her brow pinching in disappointment thinking about our departed friend. 

"You're right," I agree, "She would. She was an endless sea of information on everything. She was witty and knowledgeable... And gone."

"Yep, her wits took her away from us." She frowns again, "But I hope she's doing okay, wherever she ended up."

Her moment of sorrow passes and she cheers back up, perhaps in a forced fashion. "But back to you, I think you're thinking about it too much."

"Am I?" I ask, my voice sounded worried to confirm her suspicion. 

"You've only just begun," She explains, "You two officially hooked up not even twenty-four hours ago, it's not time for you to panic about being a bad kisser and saying the wrong things."

"Okay, what am I supposed to be doing?"

"Cliche as it sounds, follow your heart."

I snort in disbelief, shaking my head at the overused term. 

"No, I'm being serious." She insists, "Your body knows what to do. It knows how to interact with and how to be loved by someone else, you just have to navigate it."

She looks me in the eye and sees my persisting doubt and laughs quietly, going into a more detailed description. "Okay, think of it this way. Adam and Eve were the first two people, right? God dropped them here with no knowledge. They didn't have romance books to review for help and they couldn't watch other happy couples to figure out what to do. Their hearts came preprogrammed with everything they needed." 

I ponder her words, trying not to get lost.

"Love is a natural response. It was already in Adam's bones when he named Eve. He didn't try and beat her over the head with a branch, right? So clearly fear, doubt, and violence isn't the first response to the beginnings of a relationship. Feeling the need to be close to one another is the first step. Take that, go from there."

"Well then, I've been doting on that step for months now. The entire time I was angry at him, all I wanted in the world was to be near him again. The feeling was strong and painful and sometimes it just made me plain sick thinking about how badly I wanted to speak to him again and see him."

"Well, there you go." She says in an encouraging tone. "Don't get caught up worrying about the small stuff. Just go by what you feel, your heart will do the rest."

"I hope you're right." I murmur as we climb the stairs to our dormitory.


	21. Stars

A little after lights out I made my way to the window to peer out at the star-lit night, their glimmering presence in the sky bringing me a small stab of joy. 

One last look around the room and a careful moment of silence confirmed that the others had all fallen asleep already. I lift the window slightly, slithering out onto the ledge, lowering the glass behind me and shimmering along like I have hundreds of times before. 

I step off onto the lower roof of the girls' dormitory, pausing for a moment to look at the vast view covering most of the estate, appreciating its vastness and how I could appear as a speck of dust dancing through the night in a place of this size. It's easy to get caught up in things.

I head toward the clock tower, coming around the cobblestone base to find that Sam is there already, sitting on the cracked concrete of the roof, shuffling a deck of cards in his hands. 

We'd spent a lot of my recovery time playing card games. We played everything from Go Fish to Poker, a game that Sam had taught me, and when we got bored of all the other games he knew, we started making up new ones... Those were simpler times, certainly, but I am quite happy with how things are now. 

When it wasn't Sam teaching me new games, it was Nathan dropping by to show me his latest card trick for his magician moniker he referred to as Nate the Great. It's been a while since he's shown me any of his new tricks. 

"Hey stranger," He greets me without looking up from the deck he is fancily shuffling, probably already guessing from my clumsy-sounding steps that it couldn't be anyone but me. I come closer, watching him flip the cards between his hands. Try as he might to teach me, I could never get the hang of it and couldn't get more than maybe ten cards shuffled in one motion before the rest of the stack chaotically fell out of my hands. I'd be leaving shuffling in his hands from now on. (Pun possibly intended)

"Hey yourself." I greet him, sitting down on the concrete across from him, extending his denim jacket toward him. 

"It's cold out, keep it." He replies without looking up, focusing on his work.

I frown, "It's chilly, but by no means cold. It's the end of June." I remind him cooly, making him roll his eyes at me, reminding me of the many nights we'd spent out here in the past, trying to one-up each other by showing off some cool moves which counted as low-key flirting. 

It's a sweet gesture, but perhaps too romantic of one for me. It sends the butterflies scattering again, making me feel sick with anxiety and causing me to almost frown and start doubting myself again. I set the jacket on the ground beside me, noticing Sam's brown eyes flicker to the article of clothing for a brief moment.

He sighs, setting aside the cards in his hand gingerly, standing up and snatching the jacket off the ground and walking behind me. I pretend to be stupidly oblivious to his actions when I feel the weight of the soft denim settling over my shoulders. There's a squeeze on my heart, me, completely unable to handle processing the sweet act of simple kindness he has shown me. 

"Thank you." I murmur, giving him a shy smile which he returns to me with more confidence. "But what about you? Are you warm enough?"

I look at his long sleeve pastel blue henley shirt, the sleeves pushed up to his elbows, the three buttons at the low collar left undone, exposing a patch of smooth, pale moonbeam-bleached skin underneath. 

He gives me a kind, crooked smile. "I'm fine." 

A few moments pass and a new question pops into my head. "So... This afternoon when you asked me... Well, that question... It had me thinking all day... Why?"

I peek up at him to see his reaction. His quiet, listening expression fading into a slight fond smile. "Crystal was a finicky girl," he says, the memories playing through his eyes as his gaze gets distant. "She was the absolute worst when she was on her period. She'd start throwing shit and would say a bunch of crap she didn't mean; anything to get a jab in to make you feel the pain she was feeling."

"So what did you do?"

He raises his eyebrows, his Boston accent suddenly becoming much more prominent. "I wisened the fuck up and started learning the pattern. The first week of the month, I'd always show up with three things."

"What were those?"

"Chocolate, tampons, and an apology letter to cover anything I didn't know I'd done that she'd be mad for." He snickered, continuing to sort through his deck of heavily-worn cards with a smirk on his face.

"So when you asked me that question?..." I begin, trailing off.

"I was simply getting a head start on it." He replies matter-of-factly with a slight, satisfied nod. Once again, his simple show of appreciation and the desire to learn the stupid shit about me left me stunned. I sit in silence for a bit before proposing a new question.

"Last night you said you'd lead the way, show me through all of this. Is that what all of this is?" I ask, tugging on the collar of his denim jacket draped over me. It was by no means the first time we'd shared an article of clothing, Hell, I loaned him my cardigan the night of the party on the walk back... Just this time it has significance.

"No," He says, shaking his head. "not really. I'm just doing the shit I'd normally do, but with a more endearing twist. I guess this shit just comes as second nature to me, I dunno." He shrugs, "By lead the way, I meant more like teaching you to slow dance to no music and stuff like that. I know you come from a sort of sheltered background so I'm doing what I can to make the transition from single to relationship easy for you."

Silence falls between us for a bit. I'd run out of questions to ask, but like always, there'd be more to replace the ones I'd already asked. There's so much I want to know about him and his thinking process, I'd probably never run out of source material to work with.

He breaks the silence, humming something to himself. I listen intently to the notes he weaves in between breaths, trying to recognize the tune but ultimately deciding that it must be a song from the outside, one I'd never been fortunate enough to hear.

I keep watching him, smoothly running the deck of cards through his hands like it was an automated process. He begins to deal the cards for War... A game we'd already invested way too much time into. I watch him for a moment before shaking my head, the overwhelming sense of me not doing/saying the right thing once again taking its toll.

"I'm sorry," I sigh. "How do I do this? How do I act?"

He smiles kindly again, setting aside the cards and taking one of my hands, clasping it firmly in his. "Talk to me just like you did before; be completely open and comfortable. I am not going to judge you for anything you say, so don't censor yourself so much. Just talk to me like when we were just friends."

"Friends. Right." I choke out, taking a deep breath to calm myself down a bit before making my attempt. "Okay..."

"Do it. Whatever you would have said to me before in this situation, go."

I give him a sheepish look, trying to read his expression to figure out if he was actually ready to hear what I would have told him before... Before deciding that it didn't really matter. I exhale slowly and test the waters. "Okay, well, be ready to fucking lose, dipshit." 

His bewilderment withers away to a sly smile. "There's the Missy I know and love." He replies, letting go of my hand to clap my shoulder, returning to sorting out the deck. I continue to watch him with nervous eyes, constantly reminding myself how I am supposed to act. I really wish this shit was second nature for me. 

He hands me my deck and handles his. The game is War - it's a simple, straight-forward game but best of all, it's anyone's game. You could be the best damn card player in the world and your success is not guranteed just because it all depends on what you have in your deck, which you are not allowed to look at at any time during the game. 

"Ladies first." He gestures toward me to start and I lay out my first card, which happens to be a weak two. He eyes it for a moment, lips twitching like he is trying to suppress a grin and a sarcastic comment and lays his own card over the top. He has a seven. Lucky seven. He swipes the stack of cards and adds it to his own pile in front of him. 

I play my next card, which is a stronger one to my previous; a nine. I eye him with a sly smile, thinking to myself that my odds are great until he lays down the next card in his hand, a ten.I sigh quiet enough for him not to hear, getting into my defensive, competitive mindset. I toss down the next card, which is a feeble four. It's overtaken by his eight. I can see him working hard to not chuckle, smile, or make a comment about my obvious awfulness. 

Once again, in this game, it's all about what order the cards come in. You play them in that order, the rest is pure luck and right now those lucky stars are lining up for him alone. 

Next card is a ten, his is a king. Mine is a queen, his is an ace. Mine is a three, his is another seven... I throw down my card, a dark feeling of overdue satisfaction settling over me when I see that it is a black spade ace card - the strongest card in this game. I can't help but look up and meet his glinting eyes with some degree of malice and revenge. He puts down his next card, a simple flick of the wrist that shattered my moment of bliss with tragedy. 

His red heart ace card glimmering dangerously in the moonlight, slightly overlapping my own. Is it even possible to lose this much in a game of war without a single victory? His satisfied smirk is his only response to the draw. Our next move is to continue stacking cards atop them until eventually, one wins over the other. I lay down the next card, a king. He lays down his... Also a king. I give him a suspicious, narrowed-eyed look. He says nothing, only smiles and continues to play.

I lay down the third card, a feeble two that had no chance in Hell at leading me to victory over this boy. As shock would have it, he matched the number with his own. I look up from the third row and look him in the eyes, cocking a brow.

"God must be favoring you tonight... Either him or the devil. Shit like this doesn't just happen."

I lay down my fourth card, and ironically, it's lucky seven. I look to him as he doesn't look away from my face when laying down his own. He only glanced down at the number after he'd placed it, seeing that it was only a four.

"Well, you know what they say..." He says with a smirk on his lips and a shrug. "All is fair in love and war."

I watch him push the whole stack of cards in my direction, my rightful victory. I feel proud, but not quite... Something is off, his words stick out to me. I refuse to accept the cards and instead resort to digging further. 

"Love and war?" 

"Do you see the significance?" He challenges me, his bright brown eyes shining with excitement as he leans forward over his stack of cards, ignoring their existence. "What do both have in common?" I think hard for a moment before shrugging, prompting him to give me the answer. "You can cheat at both."

He lets that sentence just hang in the air for a moment, his confidence in our buddy-buddy chemistry giving him the boost he needed to not further explain himself and to leave it all hinging on that comment. He looks up from his cards, catching the pale-faced look I am wearing.

"I'm just joking with you." He chuckles nervously, reaching out to pat my arm, giving me a lighthearted laugh and smile as he regains his posture. I know he is only kidding but it still causes me to focus on his face firmly for several seconds, unable to shake the feeling that had come over me."Have you ever cheated on someone before?" I breathe, slightly scared of what his answer might be.

"Yes." He replies quickly and simply. 

"...Would you ever cheat on me?" I wonder fearfully, imagining for a moment the visual of when I'd find out that all along I'd been the dreaded other women. 

"No." 

His words send electrical surges through my heart and soul. I stop myself from celebrating to address the obvious questions causing me trouble. How could he answer so quickly and so confidently without giving it another thought?

"How do you know?" I ask, finding myself wringing up my hands in the fabric of my skirt nervously. "I mean, if a pretty enough girl passed you in the hall and winked your way, how can you be so sure you'd want to stay on my arm?"

I look into his eyes and I suddenly feel as though I am just looking at a niave young boy. His big brown eyes are fixed on my face, something is in his eyes that just gives me the deer in headlights vibe. I am reminded at once that I am talking to a man in his late teens who has hardly seen enough life or been with enough people to be able to give me any degree of firm assurance that I am the last he'll ever love. He has by no means experienced all the people in the world yet, what would make me such an interesting catch?

Sweet Jesus I need to have a little more confidence in myself.

He bites on his lower lip in deep thought for a bit, the game between us gone, the moment now awkward, all the romantic notions having rotted away leaving the skeleton of our frail relationship that had been on broken glass for some time before putting the bandage of relationship over it. Maybe neither of us are as prepared for this as we thought we were. We're both still just kids with no clue what we want.

"I can't guarantee you that I'll never find another girl attractive... I can't guarantee you that I won't look twice or even think about her again... But remember that when I was with Crystal, I was committed to Crystal. If nothing else at all, I will be loyal to you."

I think through all the moments when things between us got too heated and he'd always take a step back and kindly remind me where we stood as friends. He was like that right up until they separated. I have to have faith that he'll give me that same level of loyalty. Still, he did admit to cheating on someone at some point but I don't feel that now is the time to inquire about that endeavor or what led to it. It'd just give me more anxiety in the long run.

I think about it hard for the quiet moments that followed, ultimately deciding that

I don't really mind that he'll be checking out other girls and thinking about them even while he is with me. He's a teenage boy with raging hormones, it's only natural for him to be going full-on psychotic for the female form. I couldn't expect anything less, honestly. 

I finally take a breath, sighing in agreement, nodding and looking back at him, laughing to myself in embarrassment. "I'm sorry I'm so fucking whacky. We're not even twenty-four hours into this and I'm already scrutinizing you for stupid shit." 

I shake my head, closing my eyes. I open them only after he's grabbed my hands in his and is leaning forward to look me in the eyes. "Hey, I want this to work. Making it work involves actually doing work like getting through problems together. If there's something I do that upsets you, I want to know so I can fix it."

I nod, "And I want to offer the same to you," I say, looking him in the eyes. "If I'm being batshit crazy, just tell me."

"It's okay to be crazy." He reminds me with a crooked smile that melts my soul to see on his face. Something clicked for me in that moment. Being in love and in relationships isn't about all the good times, all the laughing together and hand-holding and the stupid shit you do together... It's about the bad shit, too, and no one warned me about that.

"You can relax, you know." He murmurs softly, looking up from under his lashes to look me in the eyes, his gaze sweet and patient, not a look I was used to seeing on his face. Normally he is frustrated and pumped too full of teenage angst to experience other emotions.

"I pick up on people's emotions and right now you're a raging hurricane. What's on your mind?"

"Hey, you good?" He asks again, scooting closer to get a good look at my face in the moonlight. It takes a lot for me not to just break down crying right then. He's so perfect and adorable and I don't even know what to do with him. 

I laugh at myself, a quiet chuckle and shake my head, causing him to be confused until I can explain myself.

"I guess it's all too much too soon," I admit guiltily. "It's nothing you've done wrong, before you ask... It's just me." I laugh a dry, humorless laugh. "I thought I was ready for all of this, but I think I was wrong." I frown, feeling heartbreak spreading over my soul. I'd so quickly convinced my heart that it didn't want this.

"You're inexperienced," He corrects me with a disapproving tone. "that doesn't make you horrible and it's certainly not grounds to be doubting yourself on, a'ight? There ain't no rule books to this shit, y'know?" He laughs quietly, finally luring a similar laugh out of me. 

"I know you're stressing about it. But don't, seriously. I'm no different now than I was yesterday or last week or last month. Still the same 'ol Sam. I'm not going to hate you for not saying the cutest things, or making romantic gestures. That's not what it's about. To be in love is to just..."

He pauses, using his hands to make confused gestures while he tried to think of the right word to use to portray his thoughts properly. "To be in love I think is to just be. Let everything else go, and just exist in it."

I think hard about what he's saying, over-analyzing it to the point of driving myself crazy. I nod in agreement, finding that his opinion on the grand scheme of love is much easier to swallow than mine which was the equivalent of trying to understand a galaxy. 

Love is something to be tended to constantly, but also something to let be and give time to breathe. Just let it exist and everything else comes naturally. I shouldn't be caught up feeling like I need to force myself to love someone or love anyone a certain way.

Of course, I still have a long way to go before I understand this stuff on a better level, but I do feel better now. Sam seems to sense the change in my mood. 

"Are we okay now?" He asks in a sweet, pitched, child-like tone, giving me the tiny smile a kid might give his parent when trying to bribe another cookie out of them.

I nod, closing my eyes and smiling away my awkwardness. He leans forward on his knees to plant a kiss on my lips. I fight the urge to get all caught up in it again and just let it be. His lips curve into a smile against mine, causing me to laugh and break the kiss.

"We're okay." I verbally agree, crossing my fingers and praying to my lucky stars that we can manage to stay that way. 

"Okay, sweetie." He wraps his arm around my shoulders and hugs me into my side, a gesture bound to make my heart burst. I bite on my lip hard to keep from grinning obnoxiously. I rest my head on his shoulder and overthink a bit more before throwing caution to the wind and daring to wrap my arm around his waist, draping my hand at his side. 

We'd abandoned our game in favor of just looking up at the stars and moon, and that's alright. I think we've played enough card games to last us a lifetime now. 

I kept getting caught up peeking over at his face, trying to convince myself that he is real, and for the time being, really mine. How the fuck did that happen? 

~~~

I didn't sleep too much last night... I just kept tossing and turning, falling in and out of sleep. I'd be almost unconscious before I'd catch the whiff of something that smelled like him and it'd stir me awake again, leaving me fumbling in the darkness, wondering if he'd snuck into the room. 

It was only after the third time of me waking up to this did I realize that I was still cocooned in his oversized denim jacket, the one made for his bulky, broad boy shoulders and not mine. Still, the garment brought me a great deal of comfort. How the Hell had I forgotten to give it back to him?

I guess that at some point after five I finally passed out into a dreamless sleep which ended with one of the other girls shaking me awake, annoyed with me for being late again. 

"My God, Missy you're never up on time. Sister Catherine's gonna take a ruler to your hands."

She was only semi-joking and I could hear it in her tone. It was enough to convince me to drag my lazy ass out of bed again. It took me far too long to realize that I was still sporting Sam's jacket, and unfortunately, I was the last to notice. 

The other girls were stealing confused glances at me, trying to figure out how on God's green Earth I'd gotten ahold of a jacket that was very obviously a boy's. They weren't the only ones with curious gazes... Sister Evelyn walked into the room to verify that all the girls were awake, and as though she had heat-targeting eyes, her gaze locked onto me immediately and froze.

I stared back at her for too long before tearing my gaze away, pretending to busy myself with making my bed, trying to be oblivious to her stare burning holes into my back. 

"Michelle Darabont," She addressed me firmly, in a voice just loud enough to cause drama to stir. The other girls slowed their activities to peek around the room to see what was about to go down. 

"A word in the hallway, please?"

She stepped back, gesturing out the door for me to follow her. I met eyes with Lena across the hallway for a split second, her wide-eyed gaze locked on me, then the jacket. She knew what was about to go down.

In a stupid last-ditch effort to avoid trouble, I began to pull the jacket from my shoulders but her icy stare caught mine and she held up a singular finger - the universal sign for hold the fuck up. 

"No, no, dear, do bring your ever-so fashionable jacket with you." 

Shit...

I make my way for the door, feeling all those eyes on me until she shut it behind us. Even with the piece of wood between me and them, I could hear the thudding as they rushed the door to listen in.

"Michelle, I am no fool. That jacket is not part of the girls' daily uniform. Where did you get it?"

Well damn... Now would be a great time to have an alibi.

"A friend loaned it to me." I state quickly, trying to channel some of Sam's confidence into my tone to not make it sound so shaky and unbelieveable. 

She cocks an eyebrow at me, locking eyes with me for a firm, uncomfortable twenty seconds in complete silence while she contemplates her next choice of words. 

"Either way, it is not part of the girls' uniform and it will have to be returned to its owner. Here, hand it over." 

She extended a clawed hand toward me, her filed nails upturned like a coat hook, waiting for me to pass the precious piece of denim over into her care. I stare at her hand, my heart pounding.

"I can't." I choke out, mentally kicking my own ass for it. 

"Why not?"

"I promised them I'd give it back to them today at breakfast. Can't I just run it down to them instead?"

She presses her lips into a thin, unimpressed line, shaking her head slowly and curling her fingers again to demand that I hand it over.

"You and I both know that the denim jackets are staples of the boys' uniform, which means that you've been keeping the company of a boy, yes?"

"No... I mean, well, yes, technically... We're friends."

"I am no fool." she reminds me with a heated undertone of venom to her tone now. "I led prayer time last night in your room, I looked at each of you said goodnight to every last one, and that jacket was not amongst your possessions, which means you must've obtained it sometime during the night, correct?"

No you dumbass, it was under my bed. 

Saying that to her face would only make it too obvious that I was trying to hide it, but it is surely better than the alternative. Before I can even respond, she has grabbed onto my upper arm, her patience spent, towing me toward the stairwell.

And what could I do? There's nothing I can say or do to fight it or make it better for myself. Maybe I'd just be better off settling for the current trouble I am in. 

She keeps her tight grip on my arm, crushing the denim in her grip as she tugs me along down the busy hallway past the lunchroom, most definitely leading me up to Father Duffy's office to get the truth out of me. Along the way, I spotted a familiar face I was quite grateful to see.

Sam was at his locker with Nathan, chatting to him and just closing his locker door as he turned and looked up, meeting my eyes. His pleasantly surprised smile quickly melted into a look of confusion when he saw the nun towing me along with a look of pure malice in her eyes. I reach up with my spare hand, tugging on the lapel of the jacket to indicate what it had been that had gotten me into trouble.

She tugged me on quickly, turning the next corner and up the stairs to his office. We stood outside while she knocked loudly on the wood door, me, trying to cross my arms as efficiently as possible to pull off the smoldering teen look.

"Come in!" He called out and she pushed open the door, thrusting me out into the middle of the room to be front and center.

Father Ryan Duffy looked up from his work and looked from me to her as he took off his glasses, hooking them on the neckline of his shirt.

"Miss Darabont... What can I do for you this morning?" 

"Father, I'd like to bring it to your attention that Michelle has made a new addition to her wardrobe, which if you'll look closely, you may notice that it is a jacket from the boys' uniform, meaning than she has been in close quarters with one of the other students and-"

Father Duffy holds up his hands to halt her, a polite smile. At least it looks like he won't be yelling at me... For now.

"Sister Evelyn, thank you for bringing this to my attention. You are excused, I shall deal with this matter."

Clearly this wasn't the response that she had been hoping for. She starts to sputter before finally choking out "You do know what this means, don't you? If we let this get out of hand again, it will end up just like Francine and Liam and-"

"Sister." He repeats in a firmer tone, locking eyes with her and giving her a look that didn't give her much choice but to turn, tuck tail, and go. With a huff, she slammed his office door behind her. From my ventures to the archives, I could tell you that Sister Evelyn is definitely one of the more unhinged nuns in the place, constantly out for blood and you best stay out of her path. It's quite unfortunate how today's gotten off.

With the silence resuming and the ticking of the monstrous Grandfather clock to our left, he studied my face with his hands clasped together on the desk in front of him. I met his gaze, waiting for the reaction, the reprimanding.

"Take a seat." He gestures toward one of the two bulky antique chairs in front of his desk. I sit down, crossing my hands in my lap.

"Michelle," He addresses me carefully. "Is this true? Are you seeing one of the boys?"

The truth would certainly not help me here.

"No." I lie, wincing internally, knowing it'll probably backfire on me at some point in the not so distant future.

"Then where did you get the jacket?" He asks, giving the garment a lazy point. "It's from the boys' uniform."

"I found it yesterday in the courtyard."

"And your first instinct was... Not to return it to lost and found, but to take it and wear it?" He asks, his brow scrunching up like he's having trouble wrapping his head around my thought process.

I nod.

"Can I ask why?"

I can't help but feel like a deer in headlights, like any control of the situation I might've had is slipping away quickly. His interrogation techniques are top-notch, I'll give him that. He'll get you to drop your guard without even knowing it and before you can even blink you've already told the truth, or at least were cornered into it.

"I just liked it." I reply, keeping my tone monotone and not too invested to give away what a massive problem it is for me to be sitting in his office this morning waiting for him to pry the jacket from my cold dead hands.

"So you took it?" He repeats himself, the confusion evident on his face. "Okay, well... There's not much I can write you up for that one, seeing as how the jacket had no defined owner. However, here is the bad news."

"What's that?" I cringe, knowing what's coming next.

"I'm going to have to confiscate it." He concludes, interlocking his hands again, returning them to their resting position atop his dark-wood desk.

I sigh and sit forward a bit, shrugging out of the jacket, the absence of the fabric on my skin leaving goosebumps. I eye him grudgingly as I hand it over to him. He takes it, taking his time to neatly fold it, getting up from his desk to place the bundle in the white lost and found bin sitting on top of his filing cabinet.

"I will see to it that it is returned to its rightful owner... You are excused."

I get up to rush for the door but he calls out one last time before I can go.

"And Michelle?"

"Yes?"

"It's a good rule of thumb to not take things that aren't yours."

The look he gives me gives me an odd feeling, like he'd seen through everything, through the tale I'd tailored for him. I freeze right there, trying to gauge from his expression how much he knows, if anything at all... But his face smooths back into its normal, polite composure.

"Have a good day in school."

I leave his office before he can drop any more obscure comments loosely confessing that he knew the truth the whole time. I leave empty-handed and broken-hearted... And now I have to break the news to Sam.


	22. The Jacket

"So... I lost the jacket."

Sam is busy pushing his dark hair off his forehead, watching his reflection in the glass windows of the lunchroom beside our table as I tell him this. His dark eyes are fixed on his blurry mirrored image until he glances over at me.

"I know. I figured that they'd take it." He shrugs, "It's fine."

"It's not fine." I insist, shaking my head, confused as to why he wasn't as torn up over it as I am.

"Seriously Missy, it's not a big deal. I can just drag my ass up to Duffy's office and get it back, no harm done."

"We can't do that." I cut him off, shaking my head firmly, looking him in the eyes, trying to tell just by looking there if he was even on the same page as me. 

"There wasn't a we." He chuckles, "Why?"

I persist, "You can't... Duffy and Sister Evelyn are both already under the assumption I actually got it from a boy at the home... If you go up there to collect it, he'll know it's you and then you'll get another strike on your record or worse."

"You say that like getting kicked out of here would be a bad thing." He laughs quietly leaning back in his chair, completely unbothered by it, a pleasant smile on his face. He sees that I am not sharing his mood and becomes slightly more serious. 

"Well then, do you have a better idea?" He challenges with such confidence in his tone that he was certain I would not be able to come up with something better. He should have known what the alternative would be. I nod, equally confident in my response. "Yes. We're breaking in and stealing it back and there ain't jack he can do about it. There's not a single security camera in this place, they'd never even know it was us."

Sam groans, rubbing his face in frustration. "I swear we spend more time getting in trouble than anything else. I'm not a mastermind of dating or anything, but I can assure you that this type of stuff isn't the usual cutesy, romantic things couples do together."

"Well then, we'll be the exception." I tell him, getting up from the table, grabbing my school bag. The lunchroom is completely empty and supposed to be off-limits at the moment, but I'd snagged Sam from the hallway in passing and yanked him in. 

"And anyway, you got a better idea?" I repeat his words mockingly, giving him a sweetly sarcastic smile, punching his shoulder and grazing my hand down his arm to grab onto his fingers, yanking him from his seat and towing him behind me back out to the busy school halls. 

"Whoa, public displays of affection are highly frowned upon in these halls... And while I'm all too eager to tell them all to stuff it up their asses, it would defeat the purpose of us covering our tracks with this jacket ordeal if we blow it all now."

I have to admit he's right and sigh, letting go of his hand, allowing mine to drop back to my side. Only for a moment though... I pause, looking around us, seeing that the few remaining students dwelling in the halls are too caught up in the afternoon rush to care about us. I turn toward him, looking just past him for a second before sly smile graces my lips. I quickly plant my hands on his chest, shoving him backward into the open doorway of the classroom behind him with its lights off.

I nudge him back until his lower back is against the edge of the science counter adjacent to the doorway, smiling mischievously in the dark, forcing myself to not overthink as I stand up on my tippy toes to press a kiss to his lips. He laughs under his breath, lips curling into a smile against mine."Ooh hoo hoo," He snickers, pulling away, his eyes glimmering in the dim light with sneaky excitement. "this is a far cry from the Missy I saw last night. What changed?"

I sigh contently, heart still pounding despite my show of fake confidence. I look into his eyes in the low light, resisting the urge to constantly look over my shoulder to see if someone is there. "I'm tired of doubting myself. And hey," I punch his arm lightly, stepping back from him. "I'm taking a page from your book and I am just being."

Something in his eyes changed when I said that. Pride? I couldn't tell. I spread my arms and came toward him, wrapping them tightly around his ribs, resting my cheek against his collarbone and closing my eyes. 

It was special moment, certainly, and the perfect setting to take things further, but admittedly, I'm not ready for that hurdle at all. In time, I'm sure that I will be, but for now it's a tad further down the list. 

"As much as I love all of this," he says, "I've got another class in three minutes." 

I sigh, pulling back. "Someday this will all behind us and the tedious, redundant schedule of classes will be nothing but a distant memory. On that day, we'll be after adventures and discovering forgotten things. This is only temporary." 

"Sic Parvis Magna." He replies with a wink. "You're still down to go adventurin' with me and Nathan?"

It'd been a couple of months since the last time he'd even mentioned it. The first time was the night he scrambled through my bedroom window at the isolation ward with a book about Sir Francis Drake in hand. I'd agreed to it then, and it'd been in the back of my mind since. The concept of traveling to tropical islands and laying in the sun of sandy beaches sounds so much better than the cold stone structures of the Boston orphanage. 

"Of course. Besides, where else do I have to be?"

It was meant to be a heartfelt, meaningful comment, but it was immediately followed by the bell in the hall. A sarcastic smile crossed his lips. 

"Class, evidently."

"I will see you tonight. Same place?"

"Always." He says with such enthusiasm it touches my soul. Something about all this relationship stuff has made me hyper-aware of everything about him. Every little detail, all the nuances in his tone, everything. It somehow managed to make him even more fascinating to me. 

We snuck back into the hallway seemingly unnoticed. I gave him once last light-headed smile which he returned before turning to walk away. I watch him go, noticing how he's once again gone against the dress code, the sleeves of his pastel blue long-sleeve shirt pushed up to his elbows. This small token of rebellion brings a smile to my face. 

That night, it didn't take too long to get out of the dorms. Two of the girls had caught some kind of stomach bug and were staying the night at the nurse's station. It left me and Lena, and two other girls alone in the big room. Truth be told, I don't think the other girls really cared what I was up to at night. The only ones who had were the ones looking for any reason to make my life hell, and now they are gone.

I stepped out onto the stone edging outside our window, hesitating for a moment to get my bearings again. It's darker out tonight, and definitely windier. There's a dense bunch of clouds blocking out the moon tonight and the low rumbling above hints at rain. Hopefully, we don't get completely soaked on this venture.

I jog across the rooftop, appearing as little more than a bleak shadow in the darkness. As I round the corner of the big cobblestone base of the clock tower, I see him there. He's leaning against the stone, the bright amber-colored embers of his cigarette glowing brighter as he inhaled.

"How in the Hell did you manage to smuggle those in?" I ask him as I approach. A big, sly grin spreads across his face. "Like you don't know."

"Of course you'd be smuggling in contraband." I cross my arms and shake my head in a jokingly disapproving manner. "Ready to go?"

He nods, stomping out his cigarette and pocketing his lighter. Together, we begin making our way across to the big main school building in the middle of the grounds. 

"So aside from all the jacket drama this morning, how was your day?" He asks as he hoists himself up onto the point of the roof just across from the wall of the school, concentrating hard to line up his jump onto the stone ledge across the way.

I'm hanging back, balancing carefully and hugging the wrought iron decorative spire, waiting for him to go ahead.

"It was alright. A normal day in paradise, of course. You?"

"It was interesting." He grunts, taking off in a full-blown sprint and leaping into the air. My heart lunged into my throat watching him go, nothing beneath him to catch him if he'd failed and I'd never know the rest of what he was going to say.

Luckily, he makes it across no problem, and once he had righted himself, he gripped the bars in the stone for stability and turned back toward me, extending his hand in my direction, gesturing for me to make the jump across the seven-foot gap.

There have been millions of opportunities for me to fall to my death before tonight, what makes this any different? Got nothing else to look forward to in this drab place so I guess if this is where it ends, then so be it.

I shove off from the spire, wobbling on the shifting stone slates, fighting to keep my balance before I go.

"Just don't think about it!" Sam yells at me, giving the worst piece of advice he could have right then.

"I overthink everything!" I yell back as I take off sprinting, feeling the little stone slabs under my feet chaotically moving back and forth as I go. My path is coming to an end with nothing but the hard cobblestone way down below to break my fall. I get to the very edge of the roof and push off with as much force as I can, sending myself flying through the air, arm outstretched, eyes locked on his, praying to God he would not withdraw it at the last second or get distracted.

He is gripping the decorative wrought iron bars on the exterior walls with one hand and leaning toward me, his other hand outstretched toward me. I slap my palm against his, certain for a moment that my fate was sealed but his grip was secure.

He grabbed onto my wrist, pulling back with as much strength as he could, giving me an opportunity to plant my feet on the wall beneath his ledge, providing me the time and advantage to drag myself up and over. It was not without its fair share of grumbling and groaning from me and strained words of encouragement from Sam the whole time.

We get to a secured section of the roof before continuing.

"Which way?"

I steady myself on the ledge, looking down below, a wave of dizziness washing through me as the distance starts to appear further than it actually is. I shake my head and remind myself that I've done far worse, and have done this enough that by this point, I should be completely used to this sort of thing.

"It's on the third floor, it's the last window on the far left." I say, pointing toward the main building one more daring jump away. He cranes his neck to look up at the window, we both watch it in silence for any sign of life.

Father Duffy is always the last person to leave, and sometimes his workload is so much that it requires him to stay well into the night to finish up the paperwork that documents kids like me and Sam as "troublemakers".

When we see no light or movement, we begin advancing further across the peaked roof.

"Watch your step, the shingles are loose on this roof." I tell him, gripping the rough gray slates with my fingers, careful to avoid the ones peeling up from their tar. We scramble up the side of the roof and take a seat on top, pausing to plan out our next move.

"How about we go up the fire escape?" He points toward the rickety metal structure zig-zagging up the brick wall. My eyes follow it up, then down a path branching off of it that we could take to get to Duffy's office window.

"Yes, and we can get off the top onto that scaffolding. It'll take us straight to the window."

"What if the window is locked?"

"It won't be." I reply confidently, shimmying down the roof to where two concrete gargoyles are perched.

"How are you so sure?" He challenges, a laugh in his tone while sliding down the roof behind me, landing lightly.

"Because last year I made it my personal mission to break his window lock. He couldn't lock it if he wanted to, and no one has bothered fixing it."

Before he can respond, I line up my jump, take a breath, and take off running. For just an instant I was in the air, the wind catching me, fluttering my clothes and making me feel like I was levitating. I kept my eyes locked on my target the whole time.

I landed on the lower level of the fire escape, causing the whole thing to rattle and clang aggressively. The whole structure slammed against the brick wall loud enough to cause a commotion. I crouch down, bracing the bars, waiting for one of two things to happen; the whole thing to rip off the wall and fall to the ground, or for security to come.

Sam held back for a moment, staying crouched and listening closely. I quickly assessed our options and ultimately decided that this needed to be as much of an in and out scenario as possible. We can't afford the wasted time spent out here.

I gestured toward Sam to make the jump. He held up a hand, urging me to wait... That's when we both heard the barking.

Vicious, snot and spit-filled barking echoing off the dense collection of buildings around the courtyard. I brace up against the wall in the shadows, searching hard for the source but it's hard to pinpoint when it sounds like it is coming from every direction.

I look up at Sam, and he is pointing down, indicating that the guard and the dog are directly beneath us. If he makes that jump now and makes the same amount of noise I did, we're both fucked.

I watch him draw things in the air with his pointer finger, while wildly pointing in different directions then simulating what looked like a tornado with his finger. He points at me directly, then makes a shooing gesture.

I got the message loud and clear. I wait a moment, watching him crouch walk back from the edge of the roof, scooping up a handful of pebbles as he goes, jogging lightly across the flat section of the roof to get to the rusty yellow ladder that leads to a lower roof.

I wait until he starts chucking pebbles down near the guard to simulate the sound of someone in the adjacent alleyway. The guard turns, his flashlight beam going the opposite direction. Sam shoots me a thumbs up and I unlock my bones to climb the stairs as quick as I can. Each step is agonizing, the metal is squeaking quietly, the bolts holding the whole thing in place whining under the weight of my steps.

It's pretty evident that the fire escape is almost never in use. It was installed for emergency purposes only and would stay that way. Father Duffy would never set foot out on the metal balcony of questionable quality... Neither would any of the Sisters. 

I keep climbing up, keeping a close eye on the security guard below investigating the narrow alleyway opposite my position. I pause for a moment to search the darkness for Sam across the gap on the other building, but he is nowhere to be seen. With the storm coming in and the wind picking up, the dark dense clouds are working hard to blot out all the light from the moon. 

I scramble up the last few steps to the top and try the door handle just for shits and giggles and to no one's surprise, it's locked. 

Taking a breath, I look on to my new path which would take me to Duffy's window. There's about a 6" ledge jutting out from the wall made of decorative stone, leading just under his window sill. I reach out for it, planting my hands on the stone, preparing to loft up onto it when slates of the stone's surface begin to shift and splinter. I withdraw my hands, inspecting the problem.

"Crap..." I mutter under my breath. The stone is a type of sandstone or concrete. It's become so weathered that the stone is chipping off in slates. If I try putting much weight on it, there's no gurantee that the whole thing won't just crumble out from underneath me.

I look across the alley for Sam again, hoping to inform him of my dilemma, but he is nowhere to be seen. Sighing, I look up for a new path. Jumping back across the alley to meet up with Sam again is no longer an option with that nosy guard just below. 

I step back, looking up. Just above the locked door is a window on the fourth floor. This one, happens to be cracked. 

I place my feet between the metal bars of the fire escape and carefully climb the railing, holding on tight to the brick wall. I reach up, fingers straining to reach the splintered wooden frame around the window. 

"Oof..." I mutter under my breath, struggling with every bit of my body to pull myself up. Despite all these years of me out here dicking around of the rooftops doing all kinds of parkour, I am still profoundly weak. 

As quietly as I can manage, I plant my feet on the railing of the fire escape and hold on for dear life while I reach through the hole in the glass to undo the latch, being very careful not to cut myself in the process. 

With all the concentration I can spare to the task at hand, I feel the little latch move out of place, allowing the window to pop up a quarter of an inch, just enough for me to wriggle my fingers in to lift it enough for me with squeeze through.

I take one last look at the ground below, making sure to get tabs on the guard and his dog before making my move. 

I stand there balancing the railing like a fool, tottering back and forth, daring to fall over to the pavement below. I lurch against the side of the building, only managing to get half my body through the opening before getting caught on the sill. The force of my ribs colliding with the hard brick of the wall sends a jarring spasm of pain through them. 

I bite my bottom lip hard and hesitate, making sure that nothing feels to concerning before forcing myself through the rest of the way, rolling off the sill onto the plush red-carpeted hallway floor. 

I lie there on my back for a long time before I worked up the nerve to reach up and prod along the edge of my lower ribs to check for damage. It requires and ginger but firm touch, shifting the pads of my fingers along the length of each bone, pressing slightly. They were definitely sore from the inital impact, but I don't think any further damage was done.

I have come to realize over the course of recent years that I have particularly brittle bones... Concerningly so. The Sisters never took much interest in my complaints or the fact that my bones always break so easily... A factor that the doctors at the hospital had not been able to look past so easily. 

I had noticed them talking to Sister Catherine out in the hallway outside my room, asking a series of prodding questions and asking muted questions that I was somehow still able to pick up on. All of them dancing along the lines of "You do realize how suspicious this all looks, right? We see this girl at least once a year for a broken bone. What kind of place are you people running over there?"

My thoughts disperse when I hear someone coming, light footsteps on the squeaky floorboards. Despite the pain in my ribs as I move, I scramble my feet and take refuge in the nearest black shadow, watching to see who it'd be. 

Certainly not who I expected to see... Not when Sam came waltzing around the corner like he hadn't had to backtrack halfway around the courtyard to end up here. 

"How on Earth did you get here so quick?" I demand, stepping forth from the shadows, a bit jealous that he'd somehow found a faster route that I had not known about.

"Aw come on, I have to have my secrets." he replies with a quiet chuckle before redirecting his interest to the open window, warm, sticky summer air drifting in. "Was that your point of entry?"

"We can't all be perfect parkour explorers." I remind him with a slightly bitter undertone to my voice. 

He must have noticed the way that I was unconsciously cradling my midsection, holding my aching ribs under my wrists. He steps closer with a brow arched, preparing to inspect it. 

"May I?"

"No." I retort, shaking my head. "I must have my secrets."

He snorts. "Hardly a good time for secrets... What did you do?" He asks, dropping his hands back to his side for a moment before deciding better and reaching for my hands again. 

He gingerly handles my wrists, peeling them back from my ribs. I make an effort to stand up straighter, feeling the ache bend with my posture. They aren't broken but they are far from not hurting.

He runs his fingertips across my ribs, applying slight pressure as he goes. "Does that hurt?"

"Yeah."

"Does it hurt bad?"

"... No." I think for a moment. "No, I think it's okay. Just hurts."

He nods, pulling away. "You know someday, we've gotta give up this sneaking out shit." He laughs quietly, reaching up to ruffle his hair, pushing the dark locks back off his forehead. "Before you end up in a full-body cast." 

I get caught up for a moment just looking at him, taking in the way his eyes shine in the ambient light. It takes him snapping his fingers in my face to remind me of the task at hand. 

"All there?"

I take a breath and nod, pursing my lips. "I'm here." 

We make our way down the hall, me trying to remember the specific layout of this floor. I visit so often, getting chucked into Duffy's office by one Sister or another that it should be especially easy, but everything in this place looks so different in the dark.

Sam keeps quiet and we stick to the shadows. There's a little wooden sign on the wall ahead of us, with gold lettering and an arrow pointing in the direction of Duffy's office.

We didn't speak to each other again, at least not until the door was shut and locked behind us. Only then did I let out the breath I had been holding, slowly strolling further into the elaborate little room, the walls lined with book cases, and where there wasn't one, there were sorting bins and filing cabinets packed to the brim with folders Duffy had called to be brought up from the archives downstairs.

"I've been here many a time or two," I breathe, walking up to the sleek dark wood desk to run my fingertips over the smooth varnish. "How many times have you landed yourself in that seat?"

I jab a thumb in the direction of the over-padded forest green chair placed perfectly dead center in front of the desk. 

"I've lost count now." He admits, pulling over bins on top of the shelves only far enough to see the contents. 

I nod to myself, looking over the desk, running my hand across the wood as I circle it. His desk is meticulously organized, everything neat and aligned... For such a flustered, busy man, you wouldn't expect it. 

I take a seat in his big chair backed by the big glass windows. Bright moonlight makes its way through the sheer curtains to illuminate the desktop in front of me. I lean back in my new throne, crossing my ankles on the desk, cradling my ribs and pressing along them privately when Sam's back was to me, never letting on just how bad they hurt.

At this point I've got to wonder if I don't have some weird disorder that causes me to just have brittle bones. It can't be normal for one person to get this many breaks and fractures in such a small timeframe.

"Lots of crap in here." Sam notes, working his way around the room. My eyes go up to the last Lost and Found bin on top of the olive green filing cabinet. 

"I'd be willing to bet that it's in that one." I say just as he is reaching for it. He pauses to cast me a smirk and pulls it down, setting the box down on the carpet, grabbing his jacket from inside. 

"Nice." He laughs, smacking it out, holding it up in front of him to look it over, making sure it is definitely his. 

I smile at him, watching him do his own thing. He looks back down for a split second and something else in the box has caught his eye. He crouches out of view behind the desk, digging around inside.

"Find something else?" I ask him, grabbing Duffy's beloved engraved pen off his desk, rolling it around in my hands, uncapping it to draw a tiny black heart on my palm. "Sam?"

He doesn't respond, so I push myself out of my chair and lean over the desk to see what he's doing. He's crouched in front of the box with a beaten leather journal in his hand, sealed with a little lock. 

"What's that?"

He extends it toward me and the moonlight catches the cover, and the name written on in in dark Sharpie ink. It's Fran's. 

I take it into my hands with a careful grasp, rotating the book to get a better look at it. I roll it over to inspect the lock. 

"Well, she's most likely got the key with her, so it's useless."

"Did you know she kept a journal?"

I shake my head, furrowing my brow in confusion. "No." I say in a light voice to help disguise my secret disappointment that she had never told me about it before. 

"I think I saw it before, the night I helped her escape. She must have dropped it going over the fence." He murmurs, looking at it in my hands. I look from him back down to the cover, sadness rolling around in my heart at the sight of it.

We're both quiet for a long time, caught up in our own thoughts. Sam is the first to break the silence. "We could leave, you know."

I meet his eyes, searching them for any sign that he is joking. We've done dozens of risky things together already but for some reason it's this plan that strikes my heart through with a stab of panic. 

"Me, you, and Nathan. We could just leave and keep running. We could go to Oregon and meet up with Fran and Liam or take refuge on a ship and head to Panama... There's nothing in the world to stop us."

I hear the quiet notes of excitement underlying in his tone, but I can't tear my eyes away from the journal to meet his gaze. Fran had pursued a similarly risky and reckless mission not long ago. I find it difficult to imagine myself in a similar situation.

"We could pursue those adventures like we planned, living like outlaws..."

I finally look up and meet his eyes, watching the excitement fade from his brown irises as he spots the brooding doubt in mine. I hand the journal back to him, retiring my wrists to hanging over the edge of the desk, casting my gaze aside, finding great interest in studying the patterns in the rug under his feet. 

"How?" I murmur, "Neither of us are eighteen, we don't have drivers licenses, no money, little knowledge of how to cope in the real world and we'd be dragging your poor brother out there with us. Do you really think that is the best thing for us?"

He's quiet for a while and I'm too scared to look at his face in fear that I have upset him. When he speaks, I can hear the frustration in his tone. 

"Missy, we're just going to rot in here for a few more months, anyway. Why not grab the world by the ass while we've got it now? I can get money, we turn eighteen in a few months... And the license we can get at any time. Experience is earned through experience. We have to go through the trials to earn it. There's nothing stopping us, not really... Why do you want to stay?"

I think about it hard for a moment, biting on the edge of my lower lip while I think. "I hate it here... I live in fear of wondering when the next time is that I'll get cornered like a wounded animal to have the shit kicked out of me again. I sit on that rooftop every night pondering life, thinking too much about mine and what it will be when it's finally mine to live... But underneath all of that, there's this foolish notion in the back of my head telling me that this place, despite all its bullshit, is home." 

I don't look at him, just take a deep breath and continue. "I've lived here almost my entire life. Every major life milestone besides my birth and first birthday have been here. Albeit overlooked and uncelebrated by the Sisters, I still always felt some strange sense of comfort here. It feels wrong of me to run away from it now."

"But you'll be leaving eventually, won't you?" He challenges, and I can hear from his tone that he's now trying to change my mind. 

I nod. "Yes, but when I turn eighteen and it is finally time for me to go, it will be different. Different because it's meant to be, my time here is done and there is no more for me. I can have that closure for myself when I walk away from here, knowing that I'll never be back or see any of these people again, or get to sit on that rooftop looking at the stars. I will be okay with it then."

"Closure is overrated." He says jokingly, managing to bring the smallest of smiles to my lips.

"My life revolves around closure. Without it, I cease to function and it throws everything all out of wack. I did not get to say goodbye to Fran and I think about that all the time and spend a lot of time regretting the things I said and did the last time I saw her. Something I will have to carry with me forever." 

"You can't keep thinking about that," He reminds me softly, reaching out to grab one of my hands hanging from the desk's edge, squeezing my fingers slightly. "I know you have your regrets, I have a shitload of my own... But it's like I said, experience is earned through experience. We went through those experiences and yeah, it sucked ass but hey, we're better off now because of it, right?"

I nod, not knowing what else to say. 

"So? Whadda ya say? Are you down to run away with me?"

I meet his eyes, so bright and excited it makes my heart pound. I squeeze his hand back and withdraw mine from his, sighing softly. "I can't... I'm sorry."

"Is it because of the adoption? Missy, you said it yourself, they'll only have you for a few weeks and then you'll turn eighteen anyway... Why bother putting yourself through the pains of a partial start when you could have your own life now?"

I hate to admit it, but his argument is tempting. I think about it for a long, silent moment, sighing and shaking my head. "That's not a decision I can make on a dime, Sam."

"Then think about it, eh?" He offers, climbing to his feet, giving me his best charismatic crooked smile, bringing one to my face against my will. 

"Okay." I agree softly, mostly just to get him off my back. I feel in my heart that it is a wrong decision to leave, but I can't quite put my finger on what it is exactly that is making me feel that way. 

"We should probably be headed back," He says jabbing his thumb in the direction of the door. "Before Father Duffy turns up out of the blue and catches us red-handed."

I nod, pulling away from the desk and walking around to meet him. 

"Hey, you want this?" He hands me Fran's journal. I look down at it for a moment while I contemplate taking it. 

"If you leave it here, they're probably just going to throw it out." He amends with a slight shrug. I accept it, tucking the book under my arm with the kind of care reserved for cradling an egg. One last check around the room to make sure that we had left everything as we had found it, and we were off.


	23. The Lonely Traveler

Last night I kissed Sam goodbye and sullenly made my way back to my room. I could feel his eyes on my back as I walked away, and his optimistic attitude coming off of him like sunbeams. He's already so invested in the concept that I will run away with him and Nathan, but truthfully, I am not sold.

I laid restlessly in bed for an hour, staring up at the ceiling pondering every aspect of my life, wondering how much things would really change if I did go. I made a pros and cons list in my head until I fell asleep.

Dawn did not grant me a new perspective on life like I had hoped. To my surprise, I actually woke up before anyone else to the early rays of sunshine. I sat up in my bed, surrounded by the quiet snoring of my roommates. I sit there in my itchy nightgown for a few minutes before deciding it's as good of a time as any to go get into the showers before everyone else is up. That way I will have more time to think. 

Even in the shower, I spent the whole time thinking hard. I tried to imagine scenarios that might happen... Ultimately, I decided that we would probably have a lot of fun, and make many memories... But would it all be worth the risk? Three literal children running off into the world without two pennies to rub together was asking for trouble.

Still, I tried to bargain with myself.

You could work some odd jobs to pick up some cash. Sam turns eighteen before you, he'll be able to legally get a job... Crap, no, you both need driver's licenses first. Where the hell do you do that?... 

Maybe we could make friends with someone in the city and lay low for a bit, find someone chill who could act as a mentor to get us through this first difficult hurdle? No... We might as well just stay here if we're looking for someone to take care of us. 

But we could take care of ourselves? We could hole up in a rundown apartment and swing it. We'll be fine. We'll pray on it and stick together. We'll be okay.

You'll be dead in a ditch, that's what you'll be. There's no way the three of you will make it more than three weeks without someone dying. 

I shake my head, ridding it of the spastic thoughts consuming me. I dress quickly and dry my hair, in a hurry to make it down to the lunchroom before breakfast starts to hopefully catch Sam before he leaves his room.

I make my way down the stairs as quickly and as quietly as I can manage. I could have taken the rooftop like usual but with me in full view in the morning sun? No go. Better to risk traveling the halls. 

I keep an eye out for any adults milling about, waiting to grab me by the ear to drag me up to Father Duffy's office. If I somehow found myself in his office two days in a row for shady business, there'd be no way for him to keep looking the other way. He'd become suspicious of me, or at least, more suspicious than he already is.

Luckily, no one is out and about. I peek around the corner into the big lunchroom and I can hear the clattering in the large back kitchen where breakfast is being prepared. I have fifteen minutes max before kids start to flood the halls. It'll be much harder for me to be subtle then.

I make a mad sprint down the carpeted hall to the far end where the school rooms start and swing a right. I run to the end of that hall, too, looking above me at the high cathedral-style ceilings.

At the end of this hall is a big wood door. I open it as quietly as I can manage and peek into the hallway, praising God when I find it's empty. One more sprint down the left, this hall much longer than the first two, and at the end is the corridor with a little metal sign hanging over it: boys dormitory.

I dart through, urging myself to slow down to a brisk walk so I can catch my breath. All this sneaking will have been for nothing if someone hears me hyperventilating in the hall. 

Up the stairs I go, working from memory to find which room he'd be in. I crouch slightly as I approach the wood door, pushing it open silently and peeking inside. It is dead quiet... A dozen or so teen boys sprawled out on their beds, drooling on their arms. I scan the beds looking for Sam, but meet the eyes of Nathan, sitting in bed with a book in his lap, reading from the dim sunlight coming through the window above.

The bed next to his is empty.

Nathan points to Sam's bed to ask if I am looking for him, I nod. He sets his book aside and reaches his hands over his head. I watch him in confusion for a few seconds until I realize he is reenacting washing his hair. I suppress a laugh and give him the peace out sign before shutting the bedroom door again.

I take a deep breath, and it settles in that I'd have to go to the showers to find Sam. I start to backslide and reconsider, partially deciding that it might just be better for me to speak with him at breakfast, but I would really prefer the silence and privacy before everyone else is up.

Okay... Fine... I'll at least check to see if he is out of the shower yet. If not, I'll carry on my merry way. Deal? Deal. 

I make my way toward the boys' shower room and listen for a moment for running water. The loud rumble on the otherside is unmistakable. I lean against the wall beside the door, waiting for the water to stop running. I am there for about three minutes before I hear the voices coming from the hall just adjacent to where I am standing, the low click of heels on the floor indicating that it is a pair of the Sisters and not a random teen. 

I listen hard, picking up on a muffled conversation. They're definitely coming this way, bound to turn the corner onto this hallway any second. 

I turn in a panic, looking for anywhere to hide. Directly across the hall from the showers is another doorway marked as a supply closet. I try the handle but it's locked. Of course, I could unlock it, but time is not on my side at the moment.

I spin around looking for a different option. All the other doors lining the hall are bedrooms. I'd be trading getting caught by the sisters for getting caught by a bunch of dumbfounded half-dressed teenage boys. I do not have the luxury of time or speed to make it to the end of the hall in time to get out of sight, either. 

I face the door of the boy's shower room with dread forming in the pit of my stomach. The voices are getting louder and I don't have the time to keep standing here. I take a deep breath and shove through the door.

Please don't be naked, please don't be naked... I think to myself in a panic as I emerge into the mist-choked air. To my relief, he isn't out of the shower yet, but there is also still the issue of me not knowing if he's alone in here or if someone else is also hanging out in the stalls. 

I step forward cautiously, feeling like a total creep. I can't announce my presence to Sam without letting everyone else know I'm here, if there's anyone else around to hear it. I'll have to check the other stalls first.

The layout of the boy's shower room is a bit different from the girls'. The boys' room is built in a U shape with a divider halfway down the room that separates the toilets from the showers. The toilets are on the side I'm currently on, showers are on the other side. 

The room is big and echoey, making the white noise from the shower sound like it was coming from all around me. I make my way to the end of the toilet hall, checking all the stalls to make sure that they are empty. 

I peek around the corner into the shower hall, not seeing anyone around. I dare to venture in further, poking around at the curtains on both sides of the hall before deducting that only one shower is running. The one at the far left corner.

I got a bit closer, confused when I felt a sudden urge to leave... As though despite all my certainty that Sam would be inside that shower, there was also an equally sized chance that he was not. 

For that reason, I instictively began to take steps back, hesitating and wondering if I should bother announcing my presence at all or just slip back out into the hall and try this whole conversation over later. 

Of course it would be my luck that while my dumbass was backing up, my heel caugh the mop leaned against the tile wall and knocked it to the floor. I looked at it and jerked my head back up. There was no sign of life from the shower, and I suppose that I shouldn't have expected there to be. It's a public shower, not someone's private quarters where it would be a shock to see someone else. 

The water stops and I freeze. I could run now, I could definitely do that... I will do that. 

I turn and zip back around the corner to the toilets, ready to barrel straight toward the door... When the boy's bathroom door opens. I see it pulling back from its' frame and have only a second to react. I scramble backward, slipping on the mist-dampened tile floor as I go, almost slamming into the opposing wall. 

Whoever it was that just came in, is clearly barefooted. I can't hear their steps approaching and it's making me an anxious mess. With this uncertainty looming over me, I lung into one of the shower stalls and pull the green pinstripe curtain closed behind me, backing up against the other curtain behind me separating the dressing room area from the actual shower itself. 

I watch through a little gap in the curtain as a tall boy walks by with sandy blonde hair. I'm sure I know his name, but I can't think of it right now. He walks past my hiding spot toward one of the shower's closest to Sam's.

I sigh in relief, deciding that my best option of ensuring no one opens this curtain is to make it seem like it's actually occupied. 

I pull back the shower curtain and twist the handle to start the water. It comes out of the showerhead in fits and spurts before starting a steady stream. I close the curtain again and wait, keeping watch through the crack in the fabric. 

I hold my breath, and after a minute of not seeing anyone else, I reach for the curtain to peek out, but before I could, another boy walks past, whistling a cheerful tune.

"Fuck." I mutter under my breath in frustration. I no longer know how many boys are in the bathroom at all, and definitely not how many are milling around in front of the only exit.

My heart is pounding and I feel trapped. I go over my options, realizing quickly that my only way out is to make a break for it, a plan in which I have a 50/50 chance of making it out and down the hall with no one seeing me. Dammit why am I so dumb?... 

I peek out the curtain as a boy walks by, this one coming from the left as though he'd just gotten out of the showers. He's definitely not the other two. His skin is shiny with fresh water droplets and he is nude aside from the white towel his grips around his waist as he pads past to go get dressed. 

I widen my crack in the curtain, reaching out and grab his bare shoulder and forearm, yanking him into my hiding spot.

He is completely bewildered and looks like he's on the verge of throwing punches until he realizes that he's standing face to face with his favorite little weirdo. I give him a witty smile, but his confusion has pinched together his eyebrows into a mask. He is not amused. 

"Missy?" He hisses under his breath in confusion, "What the fuck are you doing here?!"

I give him a sheepish smile. "You see, it's a funny story really..."

"Spit it out."

"I came to talk to you..." I begin, pausing for a moment, prompting him to nod to encourage me to go on. "And that part was easy enough after I found out where you were from Nathan. I was waiting outside the bathroom to catch you then, but then the Sister's kept patrolling the halls and I had to take cover in the bathroom and now boys keep coming in and now I can't get out."

"And so your plan was what?... To scare the shit out of me by grabbing me with your little clammy mitts?" He asks, wiping his face with his hands, pushing his soaking dark locks back off his forehead. 

I laugh despite the awkwardness of the situation, trying not to make him more uncomfortable by gawking at his obvious nudeness, so I avert my gaze everywhere but his bare-ass chest in front of me and the towel he has around his waist. 

He leans back against the tile wall behind him, crossing his arms across his chest and studying my face for a moment. I meet his eyes, trying to decide if he is visibly angry with me or just confused. 

To my relief, a little crooked smile sprouts on his lips and that glimmer I love so much returns to his eyes. "God, you're so weird." He sighs, shaking his head. "Well, there's no better time to get out what you came to say. What's up?"

I'm dumbfounded for a moment, stunned into silence when I spend too much time looking at how he's got his right eyebrow slightly arched while the left one is angled downward. This look soon changes as both brows narrow downward in confusion. "You still with me?"

I blink, mentally scolding myself. Far too often I get caught up looking at the tiny little nuances in his appearance and the way that he carries himself. 

"I thought about your offer," I say quietly, keeping my voice down. He purses his lips and nods, waiting for my verdict.

"And I have decided that... Ultimately, no... No, I could not do it."

"Really? Why?"

"Look at us, Sam." I say with a humorless laugh. "We're just kids. What do we know about taking care of ourselves and Nathan? I don't want to run out there with the impression that it will all be rainbows and sunshine and then one of us dies of exposure or something. Sam... Really, this is something we need to plan for. We can't run away on a whim."

He thinks about it for a long moment, casting his gaze downward at the floor, his long lashes over his irises, hiding them from my view. I wait for his answer, my gaze flitting over the pale white smooth skin of his chest where his collarbone tapers off into his shoulders. 

"It's fun to think about of course, and I'm sure it'd be one hell of an adventure... But this is our lives. Let's do it right."

"What makes you think waiting is better?" He murmurs thoughtfully, raising his right hand to his mouth, pressing the back of his knuckles against his lips. 

"Well, if we wait, we can plan."

"We can plan to run away, too." He disagrees with a shake of his head. "Try again."

"We'll get the 200$ a pop from the orphanage." I offer, putting up my best poker face. For whatever reason, Sam has self-employed himself with always having to be right and having all the answers... A stubbornness we seem to share.

"I turn eighteen a month before you do. My 200$ will be long gone before you're out."

"Is there anyone you could stay with in the meantime? Until I turn eighteen?"

He frowns and continues to look at the floor. "No one I trust with my life."

I think hard for a long moment before a new idea pops into my head. "What if... You never left?"

He finally meets my gaze, his brown eyes fixed on mine. "How so?"

"Entertain the Sister's and let them kick you out... Then just sneak back in. We could totally make you a secret hovel in one of the storage buildings."

"Missy, no." He laughs.

"It'd only be for a month," I bargain, "And I'll bring you all the weirdly discolored mystery meat from the cafeteria that you want. Then when I turn eighteen, we'll have 400$ free and clear. That's enough to get somewhere, right?"

"Train tickets are pricey, but not absurd." He says, his voice concentrated. "If we're gonna make it, we need to be in a smaller town."

"Why?"

"They take care of their own. They're more worried about making sure everyone survives instead of one's survival. They see three kids stroll into town, they'll be all over us with money-making opportunities and housing."

I try to image his pipedream in my head... But the closest thing I can imagine as a small town is the tiny town always depicted in old westerns with the lone saloon and hotel with the heroic sheriff wandering the dusty streets. I'm sure it's very different from that, and a bold contrast to big-city Boston.

"We get out of here, we could make it." He says, meeting my eyes. "Are you ready to kiss this place goodbye?"

I'd thought about it a lot recently, and on many occasions, I had wanted nothing more than to leave it behind. To climb the iron gate and just never return. It still fills me with a new wave of anxiety when I imagine not being able to return again. 

"You look worried." He says, leaning forward a bit to get a better look at my expression. I frown. "More like unprepared. I'd feel more experienced with wandering off into the Amazon jungle without a map."

"Stay with me," he says, stepping closer, bringing us almost chest to chest in the tiny shower. I look up at his eyes. "and you'll be just fine." 

One of his charming crooked smiles dash across his lips and for a moment it warms my soul. I smile back at him, a hopeful little smile, a small token of acceptance and the excitement for change. 

His hands come up on my sides, his big palms resting on my hips for a moment before his snakes his fingers around my back, drawing me close to his chest for an endearing hug. He rocks back and forth with me, my cheek against the skin of his chest, his flesh burning hot against mine. "And then, once we get our shit kinda sorted out, we're gonna chase that old pirate."

I laugh and shake my head. Sir Francis Drake's secrets would not be secrets for much longer once the three of us are on his trail. 

"Chase him to the end." I agree. 

AUTHORS NOTES:

Be sure to check out the Instagram account dedicated to this story, and its characters as well as some epic fanart I've commissioned for this series. @ SamFrigginDrake 

Do you prefer longer chapters or shorter ones?


	24. Baby Teeth

I kept thinking about that hug as the day went on. My skin had stuck to his with the warm moisture still on his. It was such a subtle moment of intimacy, but certainly the most 'intimate' either of us had been yet. I found myself reflecting on it far too often while sitting in class absentmindedly. 

I gave my mind permission to wander and be weird and immediately the sight of Sam's pale bare torso filled my brain. It was during one of these moments of recollection that the girl sitting next to me in Bible study nudged me and gave me a WTF face. It was only then that I realized how flushed my cheeks were and that I had been staring off into space for the last five minutes.

Try as I might, I just could not concentrate on anything all day. So I was very grateful when Father Duffy announced over the intercom after lunch concluded that study was over for the remainder of the day and that the kids are all free to enjoy the remainder of the week before the fourth of July in peace. 

A smile crossed my face and I went to find Sam and Nathan, already making plans to squander the remainder of the day together. I'd found them easily enough, lounging around under one of the big trees out in the courtyard, Sam laying on his back in the grass, plucking the petals from a daisy in a clockwise pattern. 

He looks up when I approach, squinting up at me backed by the bright light. I sat down in the grass to his left, sitting in silence for a moment. Nathan had his school books out on the grass and was reading through a book on learning Latin.

"The hustle never stops with you, does it?" I ask him, watching his blue eyes flit across the page with the hungry desire to absorb as many of the words on the page as quickly as possible. He tore his eyes away to meet mine, a goofy smile on his face to remind me how much I adore this kid. 

"Nope. There's too much stuff to be learned for breaks."

"Fair enough. Just don't work yourself into an early grave, kid." I laugh, shaking my head, peeking over at Sam to find that he'd been looking at me in the meantime. It brings back the flush of pink to my cheeks.

"This is nice," He says, the warm breeze blowing his locks of dark brown hair softly. "This is the first break from schoolwork we've had since we got here. I hated school as much as the next kid but at least normal school lets you take summer break." He shakes his head, leaning back and closing his eyes.

"What do you mean?"

He opens one eye to look over at me. "There's usually multiple school breaks each year, in a typical school system anyway... The Sister's don't seem to bent on keeping anything straight and legal, so."

He closes his eyes again, enjoying just basking in the peace and quiet before I bugged him again. "Wait... Breaks from school? How so?"

He laughs, a low rumbling sound from his chest. He doesn't open his eyes this time as he responds. 

"Out there, you get your whole summer off, all major holidays and week-long breaks for Christmas and Thanksgiving, plus spring break. And during that time, you can just do whatever you want. Go hang with friends, see a movie, go on vacation, commit a murder... Whatever you want to, really."

I can hear the sarcasm in his voice toward the end and shake my head in amusement, my thoughts still spinning too much for me to comment on this wonderful little funfact he has just shared. This is how it has always been for me, I never thought much about time off from school before. Always working the endless grind just seemed like another one of the many unavoidable, less-fun things about the orphanage. 

I stared at him, completely dumbfounded when he explained it to me so matter-of-factly. His brow pinched in thought as he spoke. "But, clearly that luxury is not the case here because this place is crap. Since I got here, this is the first I've heard of a break from school. And Godammit, I'm going to soak up in it even if it's just me laying in this spot for the next three days."

"Amen, my dude."

And that was all we did. The three of us sat mostly in silence for a long time. I'd throw looks over at Sam here and there, wishing idly that I could lay with him and be the idealistic cute couple... Those dreams were quickly dashed when I realized a nun would dash from the shadows in an instant with a ruler in hand if I even tried. They already had one teen pregnancy, they're not going to allow anything close to another. 

I allowed myself to daydream about it instead. I closed my eyes, letting the sun warm my eyelids while I swayed slightly on the breeze, dreaming of better days. One day we would find our way out of this place and find ourselves out in the real world. Terrifying as it might be, I am honestly pretty excited about the opportunity to unlock my truest self.

"What's on your mind, dear?" Sam mumbles after a while, his arm draped over his eyes, his other arm resting on his abdomen. I take in a deep breath, smelling the sweetness of the surrounding flowers in the air. 

"What is it like out there?" I wonder, "How different?"

"If you're comparing it to life in here, be ready for a completely new world." He replies, "The side of nighttime Boston I showed you doesn't even cover it. Everywhere is different under the cover of darkness. Just wait until you experience those places in broad daylight. It's a whole different thing."

I thought about that night the three of us played in the water garden at the park, ignoring the stay out of water signs everywhere, just fucking it all up... That night was the best. I try to imagine what it might look like on an afternoon like today where the pools glimmer like diamond baths and there are young children running around, screaming wildly. I close my eyes and concentrate on the vision, listening to the bird in the tree above us, trying to bend my own reality to believe I am there now, sitting in the shade near those beautiful pools. 

"The real world is full of more people than you've ever seen. Nice people and shitty people, people who actually want to help you and see you succeed and those who always want something from you who are working from ulterior motives. Always be alert for those people because they'll bleed you dry and leave you with nothing."

"What's your favorite thing about that world?" I ask him, choosing to ignore his negative attitude. He thinks about it for a bit before responding. 

"The freedom you can find. You can find it anywhere if you look hard enough. There's freedom in just having the ability to disappear in a crowd or standing atop the tallest, greenest mountain you could find, just enjoying the view. That's one thing I really miss from my old neighborhood. There were so many trails out in the woods, me and Nathan spent so much time out there wandering around waiting to get ourselves lost. We never did but... The excitement of thinking about it always raised the stakes."

He pauses, thinking for a moment before continuing. "We'd spend a lot of time out there with our jeans rolled up to our knees, dicking around in the water trying to catch frogs and fish. We rarely had any luck but those memories are so vivid to me now, now that this grim dark crypt is home."

I think about his story, imagining a bright green forest with the sunlight pouring through the cracks in the leaves above, shattering in fractured patterns across the ground of the forest floor. Two brothers without a care in the world, playing in the crystal waters of the creek. I remember how he described his home to me, the faded front porch and the backyard garden that was his mother's pride and joy. 

It's not hard to see how he'd see the orphanage as a prison in contrast. There is no color here. There is no freedom. 

Wandering up onto the rooftops on full-moon nights is one thing, but I imagine that it could never be as liberating as some of the things he'd seen and done when he was free. 

"One time... Nathan caught this huge bullfrog. We brought it back to our house, and as we were walking up we saw that the neighbors had come over and were in the backyard with our mother. I had a huge-ass crush on the neighbor girl Amber... So me and Nathan hatched a plan to take the frog back there to show it off and cooked up a tale about how we'd caught it, intending to paint ourselves as some kind of badass backwood survivalists..."

"What happened?" I ask, looking over at Nathan who had a smile on his face.

Sam's lips curled up into a fond smile. "What neither of us realized was that Amber was deathly afraid of frogs so when she saw us coming with it, she was already backing away. That's when the slippery sucker broke free from Nathan's grip and got free in the grass. Now when I tell you this frog was big, I mean it was big. That fucker could have been eating New York subway rats as a snack. Anyway, for whatever reason, he locks on to Amber and takes off hopping toward her. She sees him coming and screamed bloody murder, took off out the gate..."

Nathan is snickering to himself.

"I guess her scream was I'm being murdered-worthy because our other neighbor to our right called the cops and reported the scream. We gave the officers a good laugh once we'd explained what had happened." 

"We had better charm with the cops back then." Nathan laughed.

"Well, you two wouldn't be in such bad standing with the Boston cops if you'd quit sneaking out and vandalizing shit." I remind them with a laugh.

"Yes, Mother." Sam replies, earning himself a smack on the arm. 

"To be fair, you could be a lot more legal when you are out and about," I tell him in a condescending tone, trying to channel my motherly sarcasm. "Stealing things and chucking garbage at cop cars isn't a good look. It's a little below your talents, don't you think?"

"And what would you suggest?" Sam challenges with a wicked grin, one eye opening and peeking out at me from under his arm, sparkling mischievously. "You have the chance to break the law, how are you doing it? 

I think about it for a moment, trying to imagine what thing I might do if I were in the mood for chaos and being a bad egg. A sly smile comes across my face once I make my selection. "You know, one thing I have always wanted to do is break into a movie theater." 

Sam laughs and looks doubtful. "All these rules to break and that's your answer? This is why you don't make the plans when we go out."

Feeling mildly offended by his comment, I persist with more confidence. "Yes, wise-ass. And we're going through with it. Tonight I'm dragging the both of you out and we're gonna go see a movie."

"Why though?" 

"Because I never have before," I reply with a shrug. "I guess if it ends up being a horrible experience I can at least say that I got to share it with two of my favorite people."

"Aw stop now before you make me tear up." Sam laughs, swatting blinding in my general direction with his hand. "Do you even know what movies are playing in theaters right now? Any idea what you even want to see?"

"No... But that's part of the fun, not knowing until we get there."

"Speaking of which, what's your plan."

"I'll keep that to myself for now," I say to cover up the blatant fact that I simply do not have one yet. "And you'll soon realize that you were very wrong to doubt my mad plan-making skills."

"And I shall tremble in your great and mighty shadow." Sam snorts. "Do your worst, babe."

His little pet name catches me off-guard completely and gosh darn it if it didn't completely cripple my ability to keep crafting witty responses. With my brain melting down into sentimental mush, I don't have much choice but to accept his compliment with grace. Nathan is laughing, enjoying our little exchange way too much.

"Oh yeah, keep laughing kid. You'll have a big-ass smile plastered on your face just as soon as I get us in." I tell him, putting on one of my most confident, witty smiles just to sent my point home.

~~~

The reality of it all was that I didn't have a plan... Not a good one, really. The goal was just to get to the theater... Whatever happens after that is the result of sharp wit and some damn good puppy eyes.

Shortly after eleven I scrambled out my window, scooted down the flagpole and met Nathan and Sam in the hazy blue shadows of the gazebo. Together, we wordlessly worked our way through the cobblestone-lined maze to the front gates which were unmanned and ominous as ever, sitting in a low ground fog. 

I paused to look up at the fantastic wrought iron gates separating us from our destiny and for a single moment I contemplated not coming back. To think like that, on the edge of everything just to test your brain and see how it reacts, surely that's the early stages of insanity.

Once we dropped down to the otherside, I threw it back in Sam's face in the most subtle way I could manage. "Lead the way." I tell him, gesturing for him to go ahead. To my disappointment, he instead plants his feet in the loose gravel, puts his hands on his hips and stares intimidatingly down at me. "Oh no... This is your show. You lead the way."

I bite on the inside of my lip for several seconds, trying to find a way to lure him into agreeing to take point and actually get us to the theater... Because the truth is that I have no damn clue where the theater even is or how to get to it.

"Since you want to prove yourself and all..." Nathan chips in from behind his brother and I shift my gaze, narrowing my eyes at him, reaching out to thump his forehead but he danced out of range. 

"Okay, the truth is that I don't know where I'm going... Not exactly."

The biggest smart ass smile spreads across Sam's face. A grin so big you would have thought that he'd just dominated the world's cockiest, most unbeatable chess player in a match. 

"Would you do me this fantastic honor of leading the way there?" I sigh, knowing I am feeding his entertainment with every passing second. 

"That's like... 75% of the work." He disagrees with a shake of his head. I glare up at him, his brown eyes twinkling with secretive glee. 

"You're a real dick," I remind him with a light-handed slap to his bicep, walking past him. "That's fine... I'll try and find it myself, and I don't want to hear a damn word out of either of you about how fucking much your legs hurt by the end of tonight."

I turn halfway back toward the pair, my eyebrows raised in my best effort at making a checkmate. Sam and Nathan exchange looks for a moment, a series of eyebrow-raising and facial twitches serving as their silent language while they try to decide what to do.

"It's on Main Street." Nathan says at last, looking back at me, some degree of disappointment in his face for having to even give up that information.

"Thank you." I quip, turning back to face the road, beginning my merry skip down the sidewalk. 

The walk itself is pretty uneventful. Soon the vacant roadway has faded away into a sprawling stretch of neon signs and conversation from the people roaming the streets.

"We've never been on Main Street before," I murmur to Sam, spinning in a slow circle, taking it all in, the orange glow of the light from the shopfronts illuminating my face. I turn to look at him, meeting his eyes, squinting in a smile. 

A blush of embarrassment comes to my cheeks. "How long have you just been staring at me?" I ask him in a low voice, reaching for his hand, taking Nathan's in my other to keep him close on the busy sidewalk. 

"You have no idea how often I just get caught up watching you," he laughs. "You're fascinating... And adorable."

I smile uncontrollably, ducking my head to hide it from him. His way with words and that damn charismatic smile of his has a way of worming into my sole and setting my heart on fire with no effort on his part.

The street isn't too busy, but it's clear we've wandered into a section of Main Street where a bar is nearby. Many people dressed in dark clothing lean against the brick exteriors of the buildings, smoking and watching us walk by with dark, tired eyes.

I can hear music coming from somewhere but can't find its location. The whole street is a strange, rainbow-colored wonderland completely unlike anything I have ever seen. I keep getting caught up in its bright-colored beauty.

Nathan keeps up at my side, squeezing my hand when he wants my attention. I look over at him and he's pointing across the street at the sketchy looking arcade. 

"Sam, remember that arcade back home?"

"Ha! Yeah... We rigged the pinball machine."

I smile, my eyes lingering on the neon-lined windows and the people inside playing the games, oblivious to the three runaways outside. 

"There it is!" I exclaim, stopping in my tracks, looking ahead to the grand shrine across the street, clearly the oldest and most ornate building on the whole street. It's a medium-sized two story red brick building lined with neon green and pink lights. There's a tall sign lining it's front, going way up into the sky. I crane my neck to read the name.

"Coolidge?"

"Never been to this one." Sam muses, scratching his chin. 

There's a small group of people hanging out outside the building by the box office, milling about and speaking with each other. There's one last viewing for the night before closing.

We all hold hands as we cross the street, my eyes locked on the beautifully lit structure, so strange and fascinating to me. The longer I look at it, the more I notice the charming little details in its exterior like the floral designs carved into the wood trim bordering the marquee sign above. 

We get up to the crowd and squeeze through. I catch a whiff of cigarette smoke while wiggling through and it immediately reminds me of the night me and Sam had our first kiss. 

Sam leads the way up to the big poster boxes, all lit up with beautiful and vibrant advertisements for the various films playing. I look over each one eagerly, taking in every detail, reading their titles and observing the characters... A complete mystery to me. 

"Have you... Ever seen a movie before?" Sam asks. I guess he must have read it on my face, the overt excitement that could only belong to someone completely unfamiliar with something so wonderful. I look up at him for a moment and return my gaze to the poster boxes casting a cool yellow glow over our skin.

"Aside from those crappily-made religious films the sister's show? No... Nothing like this." 

"They're playing older movies." Sam notes, standing back to look over the display. "This one came out last year... That one three years ago. Nothing new, doesn't look like."

"That one looks good." Nathan says, pointing to the poster on the far left. We all shuffle over together to get a better look at it. 

"The Karate Kid." I read the title out loud, looking over the design of an old man facing a young boy. "I am confused but intrigued and therefore that's all the criteria I need to make my decision. Shall we see The Karate Kid?"

Sam and Nathan hum in agreement. A wicked smile crosses my face. "It's my time to shine now." I say, turning to face Sam, making him sigh and shake his head. "Alright, go... But please don't get yourself arrested."

I nod, doing a little gleeful dance that makes Nathan chuckle. 

"You do have a plan, right?"

I nod. "Of course." I did not have a plan... At least not one that involved anything cooler than simply walking inside and avoiding the ticket person at the door. 

"Hey Missy?..." Nathan's voice had changed, becoming lower and worried. He tugs on my hand to get my attention. I turn back to him, looking to see that he's not looking at me, but looking over at someone in the crowd. 

"What is it?"

"Those people are staring at us." Nathan murmurs, averting his gaze. Sam looks over the crowd, meeting the eyes of the three stocky people standing near the edge of the sidewalk, dressed in oversized black hoodies. One of them is a girl with pale purple choppy hair. 

"Don't worry about it." Sam says. "Try to ignore them, they probably just want to start some shit."

I look at the three one last time and look away, a nervous knot forming in my stomach at the sight of them. "Okay, it's almost midnight, they should be unlocking the lobby doors soon, right?"

"Should already be open." Sam replies, leading us through the crowd to the double doors. He pulls on it and they open easily, letting out a wave of air that smells like popcorn butter and nacho cheese.

"Dear Lord, I am in heaven." I breathe deeply while walking in, taking a moment to spin in place to get a look at the quaint little lobby. It's really beautiful. 

"If we're gonna get into that theater before the doorman catches us and asks for our tickets, we might want to get a move on."

I fell behind a bit, caught up in all the architecture around me. Everything seemingly plucked from an era long-lost. Sam and Nathan tug on my hands and drag me along into the theater after Sam had poked his head in to make sure that the coast is clear. 

"We should sit in the back, more inconspicuous that way."

We make our way to the back row in the far left corner of the theater, away from the glaring red light of the exit sign. We take our seats, Sam and Nathan on either side of me. Nathan worms down into his seat immediately, squirming around until he's comfortable. I take this moment to look over at his brother, meeting those kind eyes I love so much. 

"I'm impressed so far." 

"You haven't seen anything yet." He disagrees with a laugh. "Just wait till it actually starts."

I redirect my attention to the blank screen at the end of the room, decorated in nicely pleated red curtains with gold trim, certainly something out of a dream. My anxiety comes back.

"If we were to get caught... What would happen?"

"They'd most likely just kick us out... They're not going to get the cops involved unless you steal something."

I narrow my eyes at him. "You told me outside not to get myself arrested!"

He cackles, "Anything to discourage you." 

I take a deep breath and begin to work away at the things eating away at me. I lean back against the seat, allowing my mind to unwind and relax. Despite my efforts, my thoughts go back to those three kids outside... Were they really just innocent people waiting for the movie to start or did they have darker motives for hanging outside the theater at this hour?

My thoughts were interrupted when the first people entered the theater, carrying on with their boisterous conversation as they navigated the aisles to the one in front. Soon more people began filing in, but not many. No one goes out at midnight to watch a movie, not when there are more preferred showtimes. 

There were maybe fifteen other people in the theater when the lights went dark and my heart flew to my lungs. I fixed my eyes upon the screen, watching in anxious excitement for that first scene to start. 

And when it did... Well, I was not prepared at all. Immediately, I was transfixed by it. So simply the story began, depicting a kid and his mother moving to shiny California together, the kind of place I had only dreamt of. 

I must have been a sight sitting there, leaning forward with my elbows on my knees, my hands under my chin and my eyes wide, taking in everything on the screen. I could feel Sam's eyes on my face again but chose not to catch him this time, to let him have his secretive, proud peeks over at my childish reaction to something so simple but special.

Each new scene and twist to the plot had me leaning forward more and more, fascinated by the characters and their roles. To think every day we live as the stars in our own film of life. I wonder what kind of movie ours would be... The three orphans sneaking out to see a movie. 

I nudge Sam in the ribs and nod toward the screen. "The kid kinda looks like you." 

He snorts and rolls his eyes, shaking his head. His arm is draped over the back of my seat, his hand resting on the halfway point on the backside of Nathan's seat. While his stance is endearing and relaxed, I also find myself getting all warm and fuzzy about how protective it seems. 

The fingers of his right hand curl around mine on the armrest between us, weaving between my own. I look down at them, the simple act enough to make me break out in another burning blush across the bridge of my nose. When I look at him, his eyes are trained on the screen. My heart beats harder and fonder because of the simple act of him absentmindedly playing with my hand. 

At this point in the film, the kid is entering in a competition. I loll my head to the right to lay it upon Sam's shoulder, to which he endearingly pressed his cheek against my forehead. The whole experience was special in itself, but made so much more special because I got to share it with my two favorite people. 

Before I know it, the credits start rolling. I blink and realize that we'd lost two hours so quickly. I yawn and stretch my arms high above my head, the exhaustion settling in alongside the realization that it's two in the morning and we still have to walk back in the dark, and it isn't exactly a short walk.

Sam is busying himself with stretching while I turn in my seat and see that Nathan has fallen asleep curled up in a little ball in his chair. 

"What do you want to do with him?" I whisper to Sam. He stands up, looking down at his brother for a moment before making the decision to crouch down to scoop him up into his arms.

Nathan looks so much bigger when he's being cradled in Sam's arms. It looks so unnatural, it makes me laugh at the sight of Sam, almost eighteen years old, holding his twelve-year-old brother like a small child in his arms. "Alright, I'm ready to go." 

"You're really going to carry him all the way back? You're gonna have noodle arms by the time we get back."

"Noodle arms tonight? Yes. Super-human buff arms tomorrow? Abso-fucking-lotely." He replies with one of those gorgeous half-smiles.

We slip out of the theater with the rest of the crowd into the lobby, my nose is once again assaulted by the smells from the concession stand. I make a mental promise that we'll all return together when we're legal and have some cash to make it a real movie-viewing experience. 

We exit to the sidewalk, the sticky warm summer air immediately hitting my skin. I take a deep breath, basking in the feeling. It's definitely better than the bitter, biting air of Boston in winter. 

I look around us at the dispersing crowd, not seeing those three teens again. 

Sam leads the way back and I stick close to his side, giving him more space on his side of the sidewalk to account for Nathan's swinging feet whacking me in the side every other step. 

"Are you really going to carry him all the way back?" I ask him again, and he nods, keeping his eyes trained on the path before him. 

"Yeah... It's not the first time I've carried him to bed so."

"But have you ever carried him almost two miles to bed?" I ask him, trying to find the flaw in his plan. He just laughs and shakes his head stubbornly. He's going to go through with it just to prove a point to me.

"So what did you think of the movie?"

"I loved it," I gush, a grin immediately spreading across my face at the recollection of the memory. "I didn't think I would enjoy it that much, but I really, really did... It's so incredible."

"Just wait until you get a few more under your belt, then you can develop preferences and start getting picky about what movies you see."

"Oh really? And what's your favorite film?"

"Back to the Future, of course."

"... I have no idea what that is."

He laughs, "Okay, well, it's about this kid named Marty, and he meets this scientist who has this Delorean - it's a car... A really, really fucking cool car. Anyway, they can travel through time in this car-"

While Sam is animatedly explaining the plot of his favorite film to me, I suddenly feel the hairs on the back of my neck standing on end and the discomfort of someone watching me coming over me. Just to satisfy my growing paranoia, I toss a quick look over my shoulder, feeling my stomach sinking to my feet in disappointment when about 50 yards back is three dark figures following us silently on the sidewalk. 

"Sam- Sam?" I reach out and touch his arm and he stops his storytelling, hearing the change in my tone.

"Don't look back. It's those kids from earlier, they're following us."

He looks confused for a moment, then his expression completely changes. His features harden into a protective mask of concentration. 

"Are you sure?"

"Not entirely." I admit, "I can't quite tell if it's really them or someone else."

"Here's what you're going to do. When we get to this intersection, turn halfway toward me with a smile on your face, look oblivious and laugh about something. While you're half-turned toward me, look over and get a better look. The more subtle you can be about it, the better. We have the element of surprise on our side for now... They don't know that we know."

I nod, gritting my teeth. We approach the intersection and I push the button for the crosswalk, putting on my most enthusiastic smile, turning toward Sam and slapping his arm with a laugh. 

"-You did not!" I laugh and he grins back but there's stress in his eyes, urging me to peek over. I do, just a fleeting glance over the three. They're all dressed in black like the kids from earlier. In the ambient light of the streetlight, I can make out that one of them is definitely a girl with pale lilac-colored hair... Just like earlier.

We cross the street quickly, laying down more distance between us and them. "It's definitely them." I murmur, hearing the worry in my own voice. "What do we do now? I've never been in a confrontation with anyone outside of the home." 

"Just stay close and follow my lead."

"If we have to fight, what do we do with Nathan? I can't carry him myself and he'll have noodle legs if you wake him up and tell him to run."

Sam's jaw flexes as he grinds his teeth in frustration, trying to come up with a plan for us to safely evade danger.

"We need somewhere to hide." He mutters, lost in deep thought. 

"I know it's not the best option, but what about Crystal's house? How far away is that?"

He sighs, "Way over on the other side of Wellington Park. We'd never make it there in time."

"Got any other friends in town?"

"None in the area." 

I peek back over my shoulder again, noting that they have not gotten any closer, but also not further. They are maintaining a steady pace to keep up with our own. 

We're still on Main Street, but now we have entered the section where the windows are dark or the stores are abandoned. The booming section of town becoming a distant neon memory behind us. I scan ahead for any convenience stores, bars, or anything that we could take refuge in. We'd have to be very careful about our selection because our attire tends to call attention like a prison jumpsuit. People spot the conservative pastel clothes and instantly call the police to come pick up the defunct children.

"If it comes down to a fight, I need you to listen to me very carefully."

I nod.

"You let me handle it, you stay back, but in front of Nathan. If any of them get ahold of me and it doesn't look like I am breaking free, only then should you get involved. I don't want you or Nathan in close combat because thugs can pull knives at any time and I really don't want you twisted up in that, okay?"

I nod quickly, concentrating hard on his words, filing away his orders for future reference while praying I never need it.

"If you have to attack the men, just aim for the balls. It'll incapacitate them immediately. Women, pulling their hair works well-"

"So does punching them in the boobs and hooch, apparently."

"I'm not going to ask why you know that..."

"You really shouldn't." I reply, trying to keep things lighthearted by my trembling voice and shaking hands betrays my fear. 

"There is an alley coming up here... I think we should take the turn and book it to the end, try and lose them and then find somewhere to hide out."

I nod in agreement, spotting the thin, dark gap cut from the brick wall, illuminated by an orange streetlight with moths beating relentlessly against its bulb. We'd need to pull a perfect Houdini in this alley or none of us are going to see the sunrise.

I stay close to Sam's side as we approach the opening to the alley, listening closely for his instruction, looking over my shoulder again at the three kids sauntering ever closer, their faces shadowed by their hoods, the only discernable detail about any of them is the locks of wavy purple hair sticking out of the hood of the one on the right. 

I have gotten into a number of scraping fights at the orphanage, had my share of violent experiences... Yet this one feels much different. I don't have the comfort of knowing that eventually one of the Sister's will come to peel the offender off of me. 

Sam is tall and slender, not exactly a bean pole, but also not built for fighting, either. I look at him, noticing how he's starting to slow under Nathan's weight.

Nathan starts to wake up as we swing left into the alleyway. The confusion is evident on his face once he realizes that he is being carried. We break into a sprint upon entering the narrow passage, laying down as much space between us and them as we can before they round the corner. 

"What?... Where are we?"

"It's okay." Sam tells him, "You're safe."

"The people from earlier are following us," I explain to him in a hushed tone, looking over my shoulder again to make sure that they have not entered the alleyway yet. 

We keep moving, eyes locked on the far end. The closer we get to the exit, the more we realize that it's not an exit at all... Barbed wire is coiled in tight rings at the top of the chainlink gate blocking the path. There are no other alleys branching from this one and the only exit is the way we came.

"Shit!" Sam growls, setting Nathan on his feet, leaning his weight on me. I hold onto his elbow while he gets his bearings, watching Sam slam his fists against the wire, shaking the padlock chaining it shut angrily.

"What's our plan here?!" I ask him, anxiety constricting my voice. I look behind us again, devastated to see the three black figures sauntering down the alleyway to where we are trapped like fish in a barrel. Sam turns then, spotting them, too. His face locks down into a mask of concentration and anger. 

I scan the brick walls lining the alley for a fire escape, ladder, rope, anything at all to get us out of this mess. We're cornered.

"Hey!" One of the men from the group calls to us, his voice open and friendly. I turn, putting Nathan behind me against the fence, blocking him from their view. Sam stands in front of me, angled slightly to the left. His stance is defensive, hands balled into ready fists at his sides his eyes darting around looking for anything to use as a weapon.

He dashes forward to the shadows behind one of the filthy dumpsters and repositions himself with a bent pipe locked in his two-hand grip.

"Stay the fuck back!"

"Chill man, we're cool! See? We're not gonna hurt you." The guy tries again as they get closer. The stop about six yards away, hands in their pockets. They reach up only to slide their hoods off their heads. 

They look just as uncertain about us as we are about them. I scan each of their faces, trying to decide which of the three look the most threatening. The girl, hangs back further than the others. Her eyes are analytical, sharply looking over each of us. I doubt she missed any detail.

"You three make yourselves a tough catch, you know that?" The man says with a laugh. He's of medium height, head shaved down to the point that he's almost bald with a neck tattoo of an American flag with the famous quote Give me Liberty or give me death around it. 

"We're not looking to harm any of ya... I just wanted to bum a cigarette is all. Y'all got one you can spare?"

His behavior is open enough that he doesn't immediately come off as dangerous. But the fact that all three of them still have their hands tucked in their pockets has me worried. It's not exactly a cold night, no coats needed. 

Sam doesn't answer him, just narrows his eyes at him.

"We're cool, dude." The other man says, but upon further inspection, I realize he's hardly a new teen. He still has childish roundness in his cheeks, giving his aura an innocent glow. I am immediately confused by this trio's pairing. 

I step back, my hand held out behind me, keeping Nathan as far out of their line of sight as possible. I look into the eyes of the strange wiry man in front of Sam, trying to read his body language to see if he was on the verge of doing something very stupid. My gaze flits from his face to the other boy, and then the woman. 

My gaze sticks to her face longer than the others. Something about her features is strangely recognizable. I can't quite place her... Where had I seen her before? On the streets? Hospital?...

"Wait!" I shout, startling the man in front of Sam. Sam doesn't dare take his eyes off the stranger.

"What?!" He shouts back. "What is it?"

"I know you!" I call to the girl. "Your name... Your name is Angela Carter. You grew up in the St. Francis orphanage, you lived in the room across the hall from me."

Her eyes lock with mine for a long, deafeningly quiet moment. She did not make any notion of recognizing me and for a moment I thought we were all going to get shanked. Her gaze is emotionless but scrutinizing. I can feel her judgment burning into my skin. 

Under the streetlight in the alleyway, she has an angelic orange glow overhead. Her pale purple hair is chopped short, hazel eyes ringed in a few days worth of smeared eyeliner, her lips the same, smeared with a dark shade of purple lipstick. She looks otherworldly to say the least... Definitely not the conservatively dressed girl I remember. 

"I don't remember you." She replies, her voice light and kind, but with an authoritative edge to it. "But if we're going to be honest, your clothes are the reason we followed you."

Sam looks confused, narrowing his eyes at her. "Why?"

"I remember those ugly rags... No offense. And obviously kids from the orphanage have no place in Boston after midnight. So clearly you're up to something you're not supposed to."

"And? What the Hell are you going to do about it? Call the cops and send them after us?" Sam asks, his voice defensive. He shifts his weight so that he is blocking most of me and Nathan from them. 

Angela shakes her head. "No. Never. Not sure if you remember it, but I as a runaway... I left one night, like you, just to see the city... And I decided to just never go back. I found more kids like myself, that's how I met these two. That's Davie," she points to the bald man who'd first approached us. "And Kyle. There are lots more of us, we all live together."

"And what does any o this have to do with backing us into a corner?" Sam asks.

"We spotted you at the theater and assumed you were like us... Looking for something like we have." Kyle explains, stepping closer into the light. "Is that why you left the home?"

Sam looks over at me for the first time since we'd gotten cornered. "No." he replies after a moment of hesitation. "This is only temporary, we're heading back now."

"No offense, but that whole place is temporary. I didn't grow up in that specific home, but I know how those damn Sisters can be. They'll kick y'all out on your asses without a second thought."

"We only have a few months left there, anyway." I tell him. He meets my eyes and I hold it with surprisingly unwavering confidence. 

"Then why bother staying?" Davie asks. "You're not losing anything by leaving now... And if you're expecting them to hook you up with some cash and a place to hang your hat, prepare for disappointment. They don't have those kinds of resources to just be throwing around to every kid who comes through their doors. Why wait for them to leave you high and dry?"

"I know this is all sudden, and you're probably feeling a little on edge and threatened," Angela says, looking at each of us, her eyes kind and convincing. "But at least let us show you what we've got set up. And if you end up liking what you see, you're welcome to join us."

Sam looks to me and I can see what he's communicating through his eyes. Do you want to?

I think about it for a moment, hesitating before relaxing my rigid stance. We don't know these kids, and I hardly knew Angela to begin with. Something about all of this turning up now after my conversation with Sam this morning almost feels like too much of a coincidence. Still, I am very curious to see what they are offering. 

If things end up going south, we can always fight out way out like we originally intended. Plus, we still have three hours before the first rays of dawn come. We have time. 

I look at Sam and nod just barely, moving my attention back to the group in front of us. "Sure. Show us what you've got."


	25. Street Rats

"We refer to ourselves as the Street Rats." Angela explained as we followed her crowd in near silence across the train tracks under the full moon. "Not that we really struggle much, it's just fun to say. The house is owned by an old man and his daughter, who still live there. After the death of his wife, he grew lonely in the big house and opened it up to the public as an unofficial halfway house." 

"The guy who runs the place, Mr. Dolfrey, is great." Kyle says, having not said too much thusfar. 

"He is." Davie agrees, "Cooks dinner for the whole household every night, takes care of every whim and worry... The guy is so dedicated to helping people that when he ran out of room in the main house, he sunk his wealth into constructing an additional complex behind it. Now he can house up to seventy people at a time." He explains, digging through the pockets of his hoodie with shaky hands, presumably from withdrawals. 

"The old widower lived there for a really long time apparently. He tells the story to all the new arrivals, so I'll leave it to him to explain his story to you." Angela tells us. "And of course, he'll answer any questions you may have."

We come upon a chainlink fence at the end of the trainyard dividing us from the woods beyond. The wire is covered in multiple warning signs. High Voltage.

"Don't worry, it's not electrified anymore." Kyle says, a few steps ahead of the rest of us. 

"Good to know..." I murmur to myself.

We all squirm through a hole in the fence. I stand close to Nathan, watching the others come in behind us. I steal glances at him, trying to read his expression, making sure that he's okay with all of this. The last thing I want to do is expose him to a bunch of shady crap... If things start going south, I'm picking up and leaving.

"So this house of yours... What's it like?" Sam asks conversationally, standing up straight and tugging his shirt down. 

"What do you mean?"

"Not to be too blunt, but is it an actual, furnished home, or is it a burned-out shell with broken windows and graffiti and girls doing cocaine the corner with one old senile man roaming the halls?"

I look over at Angela, secretly awaiting her response. I'd been wondering this myself, imagining a tagger's dream with burned walls, missing doors, vines consuming the walls and broken glass everywhere.

"The house is beautiful." Angela says, her voice firm as though nothing in the world could change her mind. She steps through some tall grass to a trail I couldn't make out in the dim moonlight. "It did fall into disrepair for a long time, but after he started taking people in, he made the repairs, rehired help like a maid and a chauffeur and runs the place with an iron fist. There is not a leaf out of place on the hedges, not a peel of paint to be found on the exterior and not one splinter sticking up from the floorboards. That man takes great pride in his hard work."

"The man... Mr. Dolfrey? What kind of man is he?" I ask cautiously. 

"A man built on pain and strength, and love. He's very loving and kind... Refers to everyone in his care as his kids even though some of them are as old as him. He just likes to help people. He's a good man, better than some of us deserve."

I get the feeling that in the sea of riff-raff rolling through the doors, there's been a good share of bad people and incidents gone wrong, which had been navigated by this elderly stranger they speak so highly of. 

She continues on and the group lapses into an uncomfortable silence. I exchange looks with   
Sam, trying to get an idea what he's thinking, but he looks completely calm and at ease. We follow the trail, which was little more than a ribbon of mud under a mess of tangled weeds. Sam starts up the conversation again and continues to keep it steady with the three while I myself was busied with keeping an eye on Nathan. He keeps quiet for the most part, but I can see that it's just him analyzing them to figure out how to fit in with them.

Sam brings up a new conversation, talking about some places around Boston, places I have never been myself. I couldn't engage much on the topic, so I walk in silence. 

I envy Sam's social skills. Considering that we met these people only a half an hour ago as they cornered us in an alley, he is already swapping war stories and jokes with them like they're old friends. It takes me way too long to get comfortable with people to even know what else to comment on besides the weather. 

Even in my silence, I was paying close attention to them. Upfront, they seem like very friendly, kind people. Hopefully, no one is waiting to murder us when we arrive. I knew Angela from before, but just barely. Of course, like anyone else in the home, I remember scanning over her file but there wasn't much to be found on her. I do remember her file mentioning that she'd lost both of her parents in a fire when she was young. She also had a younger brother who didn't make it out. Angela was the only survivor, to my knowledge.

For that reason, I can justify her coldness and strange form of interaction, the way that she can come off as dismissive or impatient. I imagine that loss and grief can change someone beyond comprehension. The way that she acts now, her attitude, appearance and the way that she carries herself... All of it reads like someone trying really hard to hide and ignore their past. I can sympathize with that. 

"So how do you live with everyone? Do you actually interact with each other or just do your own thing and stay out of each other's way?"

"A bit of both." Angela responds. "The house, surrounding grounds, guest houses, and the orchard and pond offer than enough space to allow room for everyone to breathe and do what they want... But we do try to keep a community feeling going. At least, me and a few others do... And that pretty much just consists of trying to learn people's names and a little bit of their backstory before they move on. Beyond that, it's not too much. Mr. Dolfrey makes the greatest effort of making people feel welcome."

"And that makes you three what?... His recruiters? The welcoming committee?"

Angela laughs, and it's the first genuine one I have heard from her all night. "Heavens no... But it's easy to see how it looks that way. We just like seeing the city at night, and we just so happen to find struggling people here and there on our travels to point in the right direction."

"We weren't struggling." Nathan pipes up to my surprise, eyeing Angela with a cautious, narrowed-eyed look. "Why'd you take us?"

Angela seems a bit put-off by being put on the spot by this child. She purses her lips in thought for a moment before replying. 

"I know what it was like... Growing up in an orphanage, struggling with the sisters, the other kids, myself... I kinda made it my personal vow to go out of my way for anyone from the St. Francis home, because I wouldn't wish that place on my worst enemy."

Before she looked away, I caught something in her eyes... Just a brief flicker of pain and fear, before her hair fell in the way. It makes me wonder what secrets she'd uncovered there that I have been oblivious to. I like to think that I know most things about the place I grew up in, but a place like that, so shaded in secrets and dark spaces, it's easy to hide things.

"How many of you are there?" Nathan asks, clearly very invested in learning more about the borderline-cult we'd discovered. 

"Nearly fifty, now," Davie replies, a bent, almost broken cigarette between his lips that he was struggling to light with his shaky hands. "People, they come and go, but recently we've been maintaining a pretty persistent forty-five residents."

"And is it really that? Are people really free to just come and go as they please? Or is it a contract?" I speak up, watching for their reactions. 

"Of course," Angela replies softly. "This is just refuge from the world out there, a break from the struggle. They can live here day to day or they can have a job and live here at night or visit once a month or never again... Makes no difference to us, or even him." She gestures in the general direction of the house, referring to Mr. Dolfrey.

"And the way I see it, someone ought to be enjoying that house because damn, when I say it is a beautiful house, I mean it is gorgeous. So if recovering drug addicts are the only ones around to appreciate it, then so be it."

"Recovering drug addicts? Then surely there are also active ones living there. How are they handled? Or anyone else with an addiction... Are there any rules for living there?"

Davie shakes his head. "Mr. Dolfrey has a firm no-substance rule in the house, in honor of his wife. But that's not to say that is ignorant to the needs of those he brings in. He knows what he is signing up for with every new arrival. For those who still need to engage in whatever their vice is... Alcoholism, smoking, drugs, sex... He has constructed an additional small complex beyond the trees for the guests to handle their activities in."

He pauses, thinking for a moment before finishing his train of thought. "It's far enough away from the main house and complex to not affect the younger residents, and to keep it out of Mr. Dolfrey's line of sight. The way he sees it, if he can be oblivious to its existence, that's good enough for him."

"That being said, this place is much better than anyone could dream of finding out there in busy Boston for the night. Point is, if you find yourselves here, you best believe that you've just found yourselves in the best company of your life. Doesn't get better than this." Angela adds on.

"As for rules... Aside from keeping substances out of the main house and guest houses... He simply asks that you keep things clean, do your part where you can and make an effort to attend dinner each night. But above all else, his number one rule is to be honest with him." Davie finishes his train of thought as he stomps out his cigarette in the soft soil. 

"Whatever you do, don't ever lie to him. He'll sniff it out like a bloodhound. He doesn't do it often, but he has kicked out people on the grounds of them lying to him. If you can't at least expect the people you allow into your home to return the common courtesy and be upfront with you, going as far as to disrespect you and your home, perhaps they weren't deserving of the luxury in the first place." 

The trail begins to widen, and against the backdrop of the full moon I can make out the high roof and decorative spires on a house not too far away, rising just out of reach of the surrounding trees.

"Is that it?" Sam asks.

"Yep." Davies replies, pocketing his lighter and huffing a deep breath. "Home sweet home." He stuffs his hands deep into his jacket pockets, walking toward the vine-covered wrought iron gates with a slouch. 

The thin trail widens into a small parking area, littered with a few cars that I can only guess belong to the other residents. None of the cars look like they're being actively lived-out of, so that's a good sign. 

I try and see over the fence as much as possible, just to steal a single glance at the house that the three had been raving about. I tried to find what it was that made Angela insist that it is gorgeous and worthy of love.

Not much could be seen from my low vantage point, so I speed up my steps to catch up with Angela, my eyes scanning along the fence, looking for a gap. 

The trail leads past the parking area, widening into a little gravel clearing before the gates. The small stones crunch underneath our feet as we approach. I stop dead in my tracks, several feel back, just taking it all in. It takes me a moment to pull myself together enough to step closer to the iron bars, peering through at the house on the other side, seemingly deserted until my eyes adjusted and I could make out the flicker of dim orange candlelight in the upstairs windows. 

Bleached out in blue shadows by the moon, the details of the home come into focus. My eyes scan over it, slowly getting an idea just how big the house is. It looks like a collection of smaller houses, all made from the same red brick, ornately connected to each other through glass hallways with arched roofs and dark wood paneling. It's gorgeous.

It's two-story, a good portion of its exterior is covered in vining flowers. My eyes follow them up to where they coil around the chimney on the highest peak of the roof. It looks borderline Victorian, but not quite. The many attached balconies, extended windows, and circular-shaped rooms give it the vibe. 

"Welcome to Dolfrey Manor." Angela says, stepping up to the gate and pulling it open. The iron is silent and well-greased as she does, another nod to Mr. Dolfrey's attention to detail. A spray of vines stretches with it over our heads. We step through onto the cobblestone pathway that weaves between three large topiary bushes, precisely trimmed into perfectly symmetrical spirals.

The opening of the gate must have been a trigger, because as soon as we set foot on the other side of it, the whole front yard came to life. 

Pathway lights emitting a warm orange glow flicker on, the porch light illuminates most of the house, and as the seconds pass, more lights all around us come on, becoming a fairytale beacon in the dark. 

The big round cherub fountain to our left bubbles to life, small spotlights coming on to shine up at the shiny marble statue of the small angel pouring a pitcher of water into the basin below. 

Twinkle lights in the big elm trees framing the front of the house come on last, painting the scene to look like every star in the sky had left their place just to dance on the roof of the porch and balcony of the second floor.

I had not realized that I'd stopped walking until Nathan nudged me forward. I tear my gaze away, getting back into action, looking all around myself. 

The orphanage has gorgeous architecture, no doubting that. Beautiful ponds, gardens and ancient stone buildings with wrought iron detailing and statues everywhere... Even so, the orphanage has got nothing on this. 

Angela leads the way up the path, and I pause. I keep looking up at the big lattice windows on the second floor, the warm glow peeking through the dark curtains. Part of me expected a ghostly face to appear there. 

We climb steps made of polished redwood to the front door. I had expected Angela to knock first for some reason, standing back in shock when she simply pushed the door open like she owned the place and went on inside. 

Our little trio followed closely behind, my fingers searching for Sam and Nathan's at my side, anxiety and excitement settling in making my heart pound uneasily. 

Once inside, we're met with a warmly lit foyer, decorated with many historical mementos and family portraits. The decor is very similar to that of the orphanage. The black and white checkerboard tile under our feet reflects our worried faces back at us, heightening our already present feeling of discomfort. 

However, the warmth of the home is impossible to ignore, and it soon chases the feeling from my bones. I can't feel uncomfortable here, the feeling is impossible. 

"Well... Welcome to our home!"

Angela spreads her arms wide at her sides, giving us a slow little spin in the middle of the hall, her eyes reflecting her own joy and satisfaction of just getting to be here. 

"Mr. Dolfrey works all through the night, so he should be awake to entertain a meeting with you... Not to make it sound so formal. It really feels more like chatting with an old friend."

"I was in that same position as you three, not too long ago." She reminds us. "I hated the world and everyone in it, but found myself here. Mr. Dolfrey saw me out there, outside his gates looking at the house. He invited me in, which should have been a major stranger danger warning... But I felt immediately comfortable around him. He's really great, you'll see. He's like a happy old grandfather to everyone here."

Her words bring a burst of excitement to my heart. I'd never gotten to meet my grandparents... I don't know if I even have any now, or if they've all passed or if they even knew I existed. The concept of getting a surrogate grandfather fills my heart with immeasurable joy.

We climb the stairs to the second floor, just as ornately decorated as the first, the dark wood floor lined with a long, elegantly detailed rug. The walls, where they did not have big wooden doors with brass handles, were covered in paintings, tapestries, and gorgeous wood moldings. 

Once we arrive at the far end of this hall, there is a spiral staircase going up to the third. The little circular room that encloses it made completely from stained glass. As we climb to the top, I get another peek out at the front yard, all lit up like a fairytale. 

The third floor is slightly different from the first. A red rug runs down the length of the hall, and the walls are painted a soft cream color with the occasional landscape painting. Immediately to the left of the stairwell is a doorway that opens into a little entertainment room, big enough to host a party in, complete with a bar, elegant couches, and access to the balcony that I saw from the front yard.

We arrive at the door right across from the entertainment room. The door is not spectacular or different from any of the others on this floor.

"Here we are." Angela says, raising her fist and rapping her knuckles lightly on the wood. 

Sam gave my hand a small squeeze of encouragement while we waited for a response from the other side of the door. I look over up at him, meeting his eyes for a brief moment before someone called out "Come in." from inside.

Angela pushed open the door, gesturing for us to go in first. All hand-in-hand, we merge into the large study, taking in the man seated at his desk at the left side of the room, backed by a wall made of bookshelves, a small reading light on his desk illuminating his face. He looks up as we enter, a smile gracing his lips when he realized there are some new faces.

"Come in, come in!" He insists, rising from his desk, walking around it to meet us. The entire time Angela and Davie were describing this man to us, I was expecting someone completely different. He stands tall and sturdy, with thinning white hair and rimless glasses perched on the bridge of his nose. He is dressed in khakis and a casual plaid button-down shirt. Some part of me expected him to be dressed in flowing velvet robes.   
"Some new faces! Welcome! Always a pleasure to get new visitors." He gives us a warm smile that radiates real joy. That joy immediately sinks into my soul and encourages a smile of my own before I even realize it.

"Angela, Davie, and Kyle found you three, I assume?" He asks, gesturing toward them leaning around casually in the doorway. They nod in response to the question, averting their eyes from him to us.

"Well... We're very happy to have you, very glad to meet you myself. I'm one for formalities; I am Reagan Dolfrey."

He steps forward, extending his hand toward Sam first. The gesture is met by Sam's sturdy, firm handshake and a friendly smile. "Sam Morgan."

Reagan nods in acknowledgment, moving down the line to me. "Missy Darabont." I tell him, giving him the best handshake I can manage, pulling from the memories of Father Duffy running me through a crash-course last week on how to shake hands before my meeting with Maude and Claudius.

"Nice to meet you, Missy."

He steps down to Nathan, but instead of a handshake, he balls his fingers up into a fist and extends it toward him. Nathan stares at it for a moment before realizing it is still a greeting and raises his own fist, bumping his knuckles against those of the old man.

"Nathan Morgan."

"Welcome, Sam, Missy, and Nathan." He ruffles Nathan's hair and steps back, looking us over for a moment before moving back to his place behind his desk, gesturing to the fainting couch situated in front of it. "Please, take a seat... And don't worry about being all formal and proper, this is a safe place, the whole property is. I want you to feel comfortable and welcome here."

We shift from our places, merging together on the couch. I look over my shoulder at the doorway, finding it empty, Angela, Davie, and Kyle are gone now. 

"I am not sure how much Angela and the others told you about me, but I take pride in getting to share my story with all the new arrivals. I also love to hear the stories of those who come and go... So what are you? Runaways, young adults looking for purpose? What's your place in the world right now?"

He leans back in his chair, awaiting our answers. 

I'd never heard anyone word it like that before. It strikes my curiosity with private joy and I mull over his words. What is our place in the world right now? I look at Sam for a moment and take it upon myself to answer for our group.

"Orphans... From the St. Francis Home up the road. We make a habit of sneaking out at night to explore the city."

"You would certainly not be the first to sneak out of there." He says with a laugh. "You'd be surprised how many of them turn up here, just looking for purpose. You spend enough time behind those fences, growing up in there, you never know what's waiting for you when you get out into the real world. How long have you three been in there?"

"Me and Nathan have been there since March... So four months."

"Since I was three-years-old." I reply. He raises his eyebrows a bit.

"A lifer." He murmurs thoughtfully, "Can't say that I've met many of those... The gap between you three, I'm guessing that you're not related?"

He points a finger back and forth between the three of us. I look over at Sam again, then back at Mr. Dolfrey. 

"No, sir." Sam responds, "We met Missy when our Father dropped us off there. We all became really close friends immediately."

He nods in satisfaction. "You've got to have someone watching your back in a place like that. I've had kids come in here telling me some horror stories from that place. In fact... A few months back, I had two kids from the home turn up here... A couple. The girl was pregnant and they were looking for refuge. They told me some of the stuff that happens in there and it amazes me that place can stay open."

He takes a deep breath and shakes his head. "Anyway, what brings you three here, besides my kids?"

It catches me off-guard for a moment before I remember what Angela said about him referring to everyone as his children. He must have seen the confusion on my face, because he makes an apologetic gesture with his hands and begins to explain.

"Kids." He repeats in a serious tone before a crooked, goofy smile graces his lips. "Not my biological children, of course. But I have an affinity for nicknames, and everyone who comes through that front door, whether they're teenagers or as old as me, I consider them my kids. I cook and clean for them, tend to them when and where I can. It's an endearing nickname."

He pauses for a moment, his brow pinching up in thought before he continues. "I s'pose the name hails from my own struggles. When I first married my wife, we tried to have kids for a long time. Lost three before one finally survived. Now she is thirty-two years old, healthy as a horse, and lives with me here, helping manage things."

There is a glint in his eyes, a burning love and pride for his daughter and the many 'children' he'd served as a surrogate father for. 

"It's very sweet." I agree softly, "When so many of the kids that probably come here don't have parents, or never knew them, that can become a comfort to them."

He nods thoughtfully. "I would hope so. There is beauty in turning one's pain into something better, especially for the betterment of others."

A moment of silence passes, the ticking of the big grandfather clock to our left giving a soft ambiance to the setting. 

"To answer your previous question, no, we're not looking to move in. Not right now, anyway. More of a curiosity trip." Sam explains. "Me and Missy have been talking about leaving the orphanage a lot recently, there's nothing there for us. It's a difficult decision to make."

"I get that." He nods thoughtfully in agreement. "For you, it's all you've known, and for you two, I'm guessing that it's been the only bit of stability in your life for a good while, right?"

The brothers nod in agreement. "You could definitely say that." Sam tells him with a small laugh. "We've had a rough time this past year."

"I'm sure sorry to hear that... And I understand completely how deciding to leave behind the stability that the orphanage has offered you thus far could cause some discomfort and concern. Allow me to put your minds at ease and explain a bit more about what we're doing here. Everyone who comes here is promised to have everything they could ever want or need. Should you decide to stay, we'll get you set up in a room, either all together or separately if you prefer."

He leans forward in his seat, tapping the end of his pen against the calendar on his desk while he speaks. "If you need financial stability, or have somewhere you are planning on moving on to, I can provide you with some funds to get you started. If any of you are struggling with addiction, I do offer a judgment-free, all-expense-paid anonymous sign-up for rehab, if you agree first, of course. There's a facility in upstate Massachusetts that I trust the most with the handling of youth, so you would be in good hands."

"I cook dinner myself each night for the residents, but there is a maid on-site, and a full-time chauffeur to get you anywhere you need to go. All the rooms are fully furnished. In the main house, there is one bathroom to each floor, but in the complex out back, each room has its own. You have total freedom of the entire estate... Excluding my living quarters and study, of course. That includes the kitchen, pantry, and the 'general store', as we call it, in the white shed out back. Feel free to help yourselves."

"What is the general store?" Nathan asks.

Mr. Dolfrey points the end of his pen at Nathan, his eyebrows raised. "That's a damn fine question. Because people come and go so often, a lot of o possessions either get left behind or simply given away to other residents. We started to accumulate a lot when we first started, so we converted the shed into a place for people to take whatever they need. There is blankets, clothing, accessories... Anything you might need for the road or living here. Feel free to visit it at your leisure."

"All of this... The housing, nice dinners, free clothes and car rides... It can't come free. Is there a catch to all of this hospitality?" Sam asks, narrowing his eyes suspiciously. "It seems to me like a life this glamorous for a bunch of low-life people would come with a price of some kind. Some kind of sacrifice."

Mr. Dolfrey shakes his head, maintaining his chill, easy-going attitude. "No. Completely free, no strings attached. You can come and go as you please. If you plan to stay longterm, I do appreciate a little heads up if you plan to then depart. Other than that, there's nothing more that I ask of the residents."

"Why would you open your home to a bunch of strangers? Pardon my tone, but aren't you just asking for trouble and waiting for someone to eventually screw you over and attempt to take what you have?"

"They can make an attempt, yes, but will not succeed. I have not ever let my guard down, I've never allowed the bad experiences thusfar cause me to become disenchanted with my desire to help people less fortunate to myself. To answer your question, I understand that it must come across as very unusual for an old man to want to take care of a bunch of misfit strangers, but there's a story behind that decision."

He leans forward, looking like he is gearing up to share the tale. He works slowly, gathering the papers immediately in front of him on the desk and taking his time to gather them into a neat little pile to be set aside. He rests his hands on the desktop in front of him, his fingers woven together in a patient gesture. 

"Me and my wife, Roanne, bought this house in the early days of our marriage. We met when I returned from World War II. I found myself nursing a coffee in a little diner in a middle of nothing town on the coast, and she worked as a waitress there. We married quick, just a few months within meeting each other. 

Together, we bought this house and fixed it up. We lost children along the way, but never let that darkness steal our light. A few years after we stopped trying to have kids, we were blessed with our miracle baby, Leah Helen. When she grew up, she went out to see the world and went looking for its secrets. She never settled into one place, never marrying. 

When my wife fell ill, Leah ended her travels to return home and stayed with me while I cared for her. When she passed, it was just us two in this big house. I let go of all hired help and handled things myself as best as I could, but I ruled with bitter anger... No matter what my daughter did for me, she could not get through my darkness."

He pauses thoughtfully, pondering his next words for a moment. "The house's exterior fell into a state of disrepair with no one trimming the grass, cutting back the vines or tending to the minuscule tasks. I guess it started to look abandoned from the outside, because one night in the cover of darkness, three teens, all siblings, broke in through the back door. 

I confronted them at gunpoint and they explained to me that all they were looking for was shelter from the storm for the night. After some convincing on Leah's part, I agreed to let them stay."

He meets each of our eyes in silence before continuing. "And you know what? They stayed for two years. We all got along so well, they stayed a little longer after that first night. They'd get ready to leave and always talk themselves into staying a little longer. Soon enough, they became some of the most trusted people in my life. They encouraged me to take this route, opening my home to the public. So I did. I began picking up people off the street, bringing them in, giving them a room of their own, food, clothes, and money if they needed it.

I became so obsessed with taking care of people, and more people kept showing up with varying needs. I had an additional complex built just beyond the backyard, and re-hired my maids and driver. With the house slowly coming back together, light and peace was restored to these long-quiet and dark halls."

He grows quiet for a moment, reaching up to adjust his glasses, fixing his gaze on me for a moment before shifting it over to Sam and back. "Forgive me for getting off-topic, but you two... You give off an aura that doesn't exactly give off best friends vibes to me. Are you?..."

He makes hand gestures to make up for the words he did not say.

"We are dating, yes." Sam says with a laugh, throwing a smile my way. I return it to him and look back at Mr. Dolfrey, who is simply beaming from this bit of news. 

"Oh, really? How long?"

"Only a few days now, actually," Sam tells him, his smile giving away to a soft, insightful look. "It took me to many months to realize I love her."

My heart freezes in my chest and I can't tear my eyes away from his face. He looks away back at me, his brown eyes meeting mine. His words repeat in my head, confirming that they were true. I love her. He nor I had used the word yet in a way that indicated we liked each other in any other way other than platonic. 

My heart is swelling up with unimaginable joy, and if we hadn't had an audience, I would have kissed him right then. 

"Then I'm guessing that the two of you have not had an official, nice date yet?" He asks, getting a mischievous smile on his face that immediately makes me cautious. 

Me and Sam look at each other and back at him, shaking our heads. "Not unless you count the movie we snuck into tonight."

"It's hardly an official date when you've got the awkward third wheel there." He laughs, gesturing toward Nathan who is also laughing and blushing. "Nothing just you two?"

I think hard for a moment, realizing quickly that all the nights spent together that could be counted as cutesy 'dating' things, were always spent with Nathan in tow. 

"No, sir." Sam replies.

Mr. Dolfrey's smile grows larger, and he ponders a moment before proposing his next question. "What is the earliest you could get out of that place?"

"Um... We have to be in our rooms by nine, lights out by ten... Why?"

"Missy, what about the isolation rooms?" Sam asks quickly. "They lock those up earlier... But we'd have to get into trouble to end up in there."

We both look back at him. The attentive man looks like he's plotting something secretly. A few moments pass and he sets his pen down on his desk, looking back up at both of us. "Do whatever you have to to get out of there before eight-thirty tomorrow night. Get yourselves here. I'll have a surprise waiting for you."

"You really don't have to do anything special for us-" Sam begins, but Mr. Dolfrey holds up a hand to silence him. 

"Please, allow me to do this. My wife would be all over this, so I consider it an honor. Be here by nine, tomorrow night. Everything else will be taken care of. Do whatever it takes to get yourselves stuck in the isolation ward."


	26. Streaking In The Halls

With the sun getting ready to rise in the next ninety minutes, we had to cut our time at the Dolfrey Manor short.

"I'll have my driver take you back to the orphanage. It'll be quicker." Mr. Dolfrey says, picking up his phone on his desk and giving a quick, brief order. 

"He'll be waiting for you in the driveway... Is there anything else I can do for you three before you go?"

Sam and Nathan shake their heads no, thanking him for everything before heading out into the hall. I linger for a moment, contemplating back and forth for a moment before blurting out my question. 

"You said earlier that you had a couple from the St. Francis home show up here a few months ago... If I could provide you with names and a physical description of them both, would you know if you'd seen them?"

He looks up from his paperwork, readjusting his glasses. 

"Sure could... Who'd you lose?"

"My best friend..." I murmur, sighing and shaking my head, leaning forward against the back of the fainting couch across from his desk. "Her name was Fran. She ran away with her boyfriend Liam after she found out she was pregnant in fear that the Sisters would take away all of her options and make decisions for her not in her best interest... The last time I saw her was the night she left and I never got to say goodbye... And admittedly, we didn't leave things on good terms, or at least... I didn't."

I sigh, shaking my head and hanging it, strands of hair falling to my eyes, hiding them from his view.

He's quiet for a long moment before responding. "Francine?"

I look up at him, seeing the spark of recognition in his eyes. "Tall girl, dark hair... Boyfriend... Yeah, she came through here, alright. I remember the pair well."

"Really? How long ago?... Did she say where she was going?" I ask, my voice shooting up a couple of octaves in excitement as I round the couch to stand directly in front of his desk.

"Near the end of March, said she was headed to Oregon..." He stops, his face thoughtful for a moment before he snaps her fingers, having some sort of a Eureka moment. "I've got something for you."

He pulls open one of the drawers of his desk, digging around in the papers before producing a small, simple white envelope, extending it in my direction.

"I am guessing that you are Michelle?" He asks with a raised brow.

I laugh quietly, shaking my head and accepting the letter. "Yes... Missy is just a nickname... Did she refer to me by my real name? That's a first... In all the time I'd known her, she only ever called me Missy. She was the one who gave me the nickname, actually."

"Yes, she did. She told me all about you... And wanted me to mail that to you when she left but in the chaos, she forgot to actually put your name and address on it. Who would have thought that I would get to hand-deliver it?"

His smile fades and he rises from his spot behind his desk, gesturing for me to take his place. "I'll give you a moment."

I stay standing until he has left the room, quietly closing the door behind him. I look at his desk, stepping around it to sit down in his chair. I immediately get flashbacks to last night when we broke into Father Duffy's office. I am drowning in the massive chair.

I avert my gaze back down at the envelope, rotating it slowly in my hands, seeing on the backside where she had written my name in her elegant print using black ink.

It took a lot of convincing to get my fingers to cooperate to tear it open. Truthfully, I don't know what to expect. Would the whole letter just consist of her verbally wringing my neck for doing the things I did the night of the party? Hell, I'd deserve it if that was the case. Would she be angry with me?

I rip open the top flap and pull out the piece of stationery. It's a two-page letter, but her writing is so big that there isn't much she was able to fit on one piece before needing to continue her thoughts on a second. I take a deep breath, holding up the paper in the light of the desk lamp and begin to read.

Missy!

I'm really sorry things went down the way they did. I anticipated leaving the following night of the party but things didn't work out that way. We ran out of time. I'd caught wind that the Sisters were going to ship me upstate to a different facility the very next morning. I couldn't stay there and wait for them to take away my choices and freedom. I'm not having this baby without its father present. Not without Liam.

We packed what little we had and I asked for Sam's help getting out, which he graciously did. I am very grateful for his and his brother's help. Missy, listen carefully when I say, open your eyes and really take a good look at the boy you've got in your life right now. By some grace of God, you were blessed with him. I know you had feelings for him, and whether or not he has officially reciprocated them to you, know that on the night he helped us out, he rambled on and on about you. Mostly worried that you were reckless, but it came from a place of being love-sick, I think. He really does think the world of you.

Now snatch up that boy, because men like him don't come along too often. I'm not too prideful to admit that I'm a little envious. Not even Liam has such a way of words toward me. Sam really adores you, whether or not he shows it publicly.

I'm headed for Oregon, trying to reconnect with family. Once I get there, I will try and get another letter out to you. I don't know when, but I will try my best. Please extend my love to Lena and let her know a separate letter will be heading her way soon, as well.

I love you, hun. Don't ever forget or doubt that. I miss you so much and am looking forward to reconnecting with you when you get free.

Forever your motherly best friend,

Fran

I flip over the letter again, scouring the page for anything I might've missed. If this was written during her residency here shortly after leaving the orphanage, that would mean that this was written over four months ago... Still no new letters, no updates... Had she made it? Had she tried mailing any others that the Sisters just ended up confiscating?

I frown as I fold up the papers and carefully poke them back into the envelope, putting it into the pocket of my skirt and rising to head to the door. 

When I step out, Mr. Dolfrey breaks from his conversation with Sam and Nathan to look at me. "I look forward to seeing you again, Miss Darabont." He places his hand on my shoulder, giving it a squeeze. 

"I do hope that you three will keep this place in mind. You're always welcome here if you decide to leave the orphanage, and of course, you'll be welcome anytime, even after that. Have a nice night."

We make our way back down the stairwell in silence. I can feel Fran's letter burning a hole in my pocket as we go, her words repeating themselves over and over in my head. That letter was written in March, and she spoke so highly of Sam then, even though we hadn't even known each other a week yet. I was completely oblivious to any mutual feelings that there may have been there... 

All I can think of when I think of that last night, I remember the awkward almost-kiss and the rejection. 

We get out to the front yard, and as promised, just outside the wrought iron gates, a sleak black car waits with a man standing there in full uniform waiting for us.

"Hello," He greets us as we approach him, turning to open the backseat door. We all squeeze in and buckle up for the ride back. While this car ride is no-nevermind for those two, for me it's very special. I've only ever gotten to ride in a car on a handful of occasions. The last time was when Sister Catherine drove me to the hospital and Sam and Nathan were missing. 

We ride in silence, aside from the low, inaudible hum of the radio upfront. I can't make out the music, just the ambiance of its presence warding off any uncomfortable silence. 

We pull up outside the orphanage within a few minutes and give our thanks to the driver, waiting on the sidewalk outside the orphanage, watching him drive away. Once he is gone, I turn to face Sam and Nathan, a look of puzzled shock on my face.

"What the hell just happened?" I breathe. "We went to see a movie, and now I feel like I've lived an entire lifetime in the last few hours."

Nathan yawns, stretching his arms over his head. "Well, whatever it was, it burned me out. I'm ready to crash." He starts a tired stumbled back toward the gate. "Sam, I'm gonna go ahead and head back. I have a feeling you guys need to talk."

"Goodnight, Nathan." I call to him as he goes, watching him climb the gate and drop into the darkness on the other side. I redirect my attention to Sam, who is standing a few feet away with his hands in his pockets, his shoulders slumped and locks of his dark hair hanging in his tired eyes.

I take a deep breath, replicating his pose in my own, putting my hands in the pockets of my skirt and occupying my attention for a bit with rolling a rock around on the ground with the toe of my shoe. 

"So. What did you think?" I ask, not looking up.

Sam is quiet for a few moments, thinking. "I don't know." He admits with a slight shrug. "It all seems too good to be true, but what if it is real and not all for show? Imagine if we did leave and went there. We'd be set for life, we'd never have another worry."

I nod slowly in agreement, "True."

"And the people seem alright I s'pose. I liked Dolfrey, need more time around the other three."

"Davie said that they have around forty-five people living there now. That's a lot of opportunities to meet new people... What do you think Nathan thought of it? He was pretty quiet the whole time." 

Sam shrugs, "I'll ask him in the morning what he thought, after he's had some time to rest up and think about it."

I nod and we stand in silence for a couple moments. Sam is the first to break the silence, nodding toward the gates. "We should probably be getting inside."

I look up at those walls, the very thing making this place feel like prison. I follow him in silence and we climb over, dropping onto the cobblestone below on the otherside.

"So... About tomorrow night. We have to land ourselves in the isolation ward. How on Earth are we going to go about doing that? I've lived here long enough to promise you that there are few things that you can do that'll actually get you into isolation instead of just getting your knuckles smacked. If they were more on top of discipline, those girls wouldn't have been beating on me for so long while they looked the other way."

My brow pinches up in thought. "What is something we could do to end up in there? Getting into a fight would just earn a chat with Duffy, same with stealing, disrupting..."

"What about staging a raging makeout scene in the hallway?" Sam asks, his tired voice giving away to his humor, a light chuckle following his words. I meet his eyes and shake my head, laughing. 

"Well, that would probably get us sent to separate facilities. After Fran, they're not taking any chances."

We walk a bit further, both of us caught up in our thoughts, trying to hatch a plan. 

A wicked smile comes to my lips and Sam's brows pinch together in worry when he sees it. "Oh God no, I know that smile... Something tells I don't want to know what did you think of."

"You won't like it..." I confirm his worries, trailing off, being dramatic, taking a deep, loud breath.

He narrows his eyes at me and stops walking. "What?"

"What about... Hear me out... We go streaking in the hallway tomorrow?"

He crosses his arms tightly across his chest, shaking his head firmly. "No, Missy, no."

"Come on!" I insist, "You don't have to be full-on naked, I mean that we'll make it dramatic and horrible in different ways. We'll roll up your shirt to look like a bra and you can go screaming down the halls, lyrics to heavy metal songs. It'll be enough to make the sisters pass out and grip their crosses."

I see the gears turning in his head, but he does not seem convinced yet. 

"I'm telling you, if there is one thing in this place that they hold above all else, it's their damn dress code... You saw how they were about the jacket! They'll flip their shit if we go running down the halls all half-dressed. Just follow my lead, one way or another, we're getting in trouble."

He sighs loudly, a big, dramatic sigh. He throws his head back and closes his eyes, staying like that for several seconds before he speaks. "Y'know, my Mother used to tell me something about the girls like you... Samuel, you stay away from those bad girls, they'll just get you into trouble."

"Pssh... You do a good enough job getting yourself into trouble, Sir Punch-A-Lot." I remind him, jabbing him in the ribs. "You get into enough trouble without my help, I don't want to hear it now how I'm the bad one in this duo."

"You're a bad influence on me." He groans and I laugh.

"Me?" I laugh incredulously, "I'm the bad influence, here? Who convinced who to smoke? Who made who leave the orphanage for the first time, encouraged stealing, trespassing, egged a cop car, and gets in trouble on a weekly basis for getting into petty fights because someone looked at you wrong? I'm hardly the bad one here." I conclude, turning and continuing the walk back in the general direction of the girls dormitory. 

"Now hold on just a damn minute..." He jogs to catch up with me, eager to argue back. 

"Samuel Morgan, there is not a damn thing you could tell me that would change where we currently stand. But don't worry," I reach for his hand, watching his bewildered expression as I pull him in close, our chests almost touching. "I have a thing for black sheep."

I catch the rare flicker of shock in his dark eyes in the second before it disappeared. There are few things that shock Sam. 

"Dear Lord..." He murmurs, his voice worried. "I am the bad influence. The old Missy never would have done this shit."

He drops my hand, taking a dramatic step away from me. 

"What shit?" I laugh, "Holding you endearingly? Good grief, that's hardly grounds for you to start throwing a fit about corruption."

He narrows his eyes at me in amusement. "Yes... But still."

"There isn't a but still," I insist, carrying on in my mission to get back before the guard shift changes and we're unable to get back at all. "Maybe I was always this way and you just did not notice."

He's quiet for a few moments, keeping up with my pace. "Wait, does that mean there is more to be on the lookout for?" His voice is hopeful.

"Perhaps..." I reply, taking pride in not giving him the answers he seeks. For months, he used my emotions and undying love for him to control me, now I feel it is only fair to use that back against him. 

"What kind of other things?" He asks, pressing for more information.

"If I told you what I have in store, it wouldn't be a surprise anymore." 

"Surprises stress me out." 

"But isn't the anticipation of not knowing when something will happen the best part of all? When it's time, you'll know." 

We begin the climb up to the roof in silence, but the entire time I could just feel that this conversation was not over. He is far too invested in the topic at hand to simply let it be. 

"Yeah, but could you like... Give me a timeframe?" He asks once we've gotten onto the roof. I turn halfway toward him, shaking my head. "Sam. No."

I look toward the horizon where it is slowly turning a soft shade of violet. "The sun will be rising before long." I murmur, taking in the beauty of the scene. It's not often that I stay up late enough to watch the sunrise. Something about getting to watch it now brings warmth to my soul. 

"How long do you think we have before the sister's will notice that we're gone?"

I shrug, "They don't check in on the girls until seven, as for the boys, I'm not sure."

"The earliest I've seen them check in on the dormitories is six."

"We've got time, then." I say softly, looking away from the first rays of dawn to his face, the soft summer breeze ruffling his hair. It's not a moment that needs to be filled with words or busy chatter. Just meeting his eyes is enough to convey everything I am feeling in that moment.

He reaches for my hand, weaving his fingers between mine. We stand there at the edge of the roof underneath the clocktower, side by side, watching the sun slowly rise out of the bank of fog. There's things I want to say or ask but I don't want to ruin the moment, and there will be plenty of time for conversation tomorrow. 

I rest my head on his shoulder, pulling my hand from his to instead place it around his waist. He does the same, squeezing me closer to his side, his hand around my arm. 

How many more moments will we have like this? The quiet, peaceful moments where words are not needed? If they can all be as sweet as this one, I would wish for a thousand more. 

Something about this interaction is just... Different. In a good way. I smile privately to myself, proud that I am slowly getting more confident and comfortable with all this relationship, feeling more like I'm actually treading water instead of being the one drowning in it.

The violet light slowly fades to pink, then a deep orange. It is at this point that we must shake ourselves from our state and part ways.

"Well... So much for that." I murmur when the clock tower announces the arrival of five am. I look up at Sam, searching his eyes. "Everything okay?"

He nods, his face peaceful. "Yeah... This is just really nice."

I smile slightly, leaning my head back against his shoulder, giving his waist a firm squeeze. "It is." I agree. "Just imagine what the sunrise will look like from the beaches of deserted islands when we go looking for Sir Francis."

His chest vibrates with quiet laughter. "Oh yeah, that'll be great." 

"It will be." I agree.

~~~

We parted ways, and went back to our rooms to make a vein effort to get in a single hour of sleep before the Sisters would come barging in. I kissed Sam goodbye and watched him go, all caught up in the butterflies swarming my chest. Would there ever be a point where I would be immune to the feeling, when it no longer brings me immeasurable amounts of joy? 

I lie down in my bed, not bothering to cover myself up with the quilt. I looked at the ceiling for a bit before averting my gaze elsewhere. In the dim light of sunrise, I spot the corner of Fran's journal poking out from under the quilt folded at the end of my bed. 

I look around the room at my sleeping roommates before reaching out to grab it.

I scoot up into a sitting position against the headboard, studying the leather exterior of the journal. On the side is a brass lock holding it shut. Ater a bit of inspection, I realize that the only thing really keeping the book shut is the little metal pegs through the cardboard backing board.

I mentally apologize to Fran as I get the cover and backside in a vice grip, pulling them apart with jerking motions until one side of the panel holding the lock in place starts to pull up from the cardboard. I grab onto it, tugging on it until it rips free.

I take a deep breath, hesitating to remind myself that whatever lies inside might be much more than I ever wanted to know about my friend. 

With that in mind, I open to the first page. Each entry in her journal is dated, and the first entry is dated just a month before Sam and Nathan arrived here in March. I skim over her words, surprised to find that her giddy excitement about meeting a boy mirrored my own.

Today while on break, me and Emily were in the courtyard working on homework. That's when some of the boys walked by. There was one boy in their group that I thought looked pretty cute. He even smiled at me as he walked by! I don't know his name, but I know someone who probably does. I'll have to ask Missy about it tomorrow.

She certainly did... I remember that morning, me half-awake, trying to get dressed and make my bed while she stood beside me, trying to describe to me in a hushed whisper his appearance so I could tell her his name. At the time, I did not realize the consequences that would come of doing something so simple and harmless. 

I flip to the next page, examining the next entry. It must have been written that night after she'd asked me about him.

I asked Missy this morning about the boy and she told me that his name is Liam. She told me that he's a simple kid, no troubled backstory or anything. He's been here for three years now, and just keeps to his small group of friends. 

Should I try talking to him? If so, when? At breakfast? Maybe that would be too obvious... I don't know yet. 

The next entry is written the following day. 

I spoke to him this morning! I finally spoke to Liam. He was much more chill than I expected, but very sweet! He invited me to come hang out with him tonight. I've seen Missy sneak out the window by her bed a dozen times now, surely I can do it too, right?

We'll see where this goes. 

I read on, flipping through the other entries, skimming them, trying to avoid reading too much of the more personal ones. The ones toward the end are definitely more littered with detailed recounts of intimate events that I would rather not know about. I skim ahead to one of the more recent entries.

Last night the Sister's caught us together and dragged me off to the infirmary for a pregnancy test. They say right through the story I gave them... I think they've been suspicious for a while, but just waiting to catch us. 

The test came out positive... Shit. I'm pregnant. I'm seventeen years old, pregnant, and don't have a clue in the world what to do. The Sisters are threatening to send me away to a different home to have the baby, and when I do, they will most likely take it from me. 

I don't have many options... And not many friends to confide in aside from Lena and Missy. I don't even know what to say to either of them. 

Everyone is still asleep, it's early morning... I have a feeling that my time here is growing shorter as I run out of options. Praying for a miracle.

The very last entry is from the same day as the party, written earlier that day. 

I made arrangements last night with Missy and Sam to deliver a letter for me to Liam, explaining everything. They said that there is a chance they can get me out of here to tell him in person. God, I hope so. This isn't the kind of thing you explain through a letter.

I met the strange newcomer who Missy has befriended last night. Samuel Morgan. They seem like an unlikely alliance, each of them having personalities all their own and certainly some degree of head-butting stubbornness towards each other. Nonetheless, I think it's cute. I think Missy has a thing for him, though she'd never admit it if I asked. 

Anyway, here's hoping that all goes well tomorrow. I really need this to work out. 

I quickly thumb through the last of the pages in the journal, the rest of them bare. I close it gently, sliding it underneath my pillow, sliding lower into my pillows, closing my eyes while I think. Hearing her story through her written words brings me a strange sense of comfort. She'd gone through the same thing as me, falling completely in love with a boy who after such a short time in her life, changed everything.

Of course, I have no intention of getting pregnant and running away with him... I'd avoid that for as long as I can. I've thought about having kids myself a lot and when it gets right down to it, I don't think I'd want any... Plus my self-doubt and anxiety is always insisting to me that I'd make a bad mother and I'd really rather not try.

Fran, though... She'll make a brilliant mother. I can see her fitting the role perfectly. And even though I miss her more than words can describe, I am grateful that she is somewhere she feels safe and with someone she feels safe with... Hopefully. 

In the meantime, I'll keep waiting on that letter, the one that will change everything.

~~~

After lunch the following day, the plan was devised and set to take place in the hall after the crowd had drained from the lunchroom on their way to Bible study. Over lunch, we explained to Nathan and Lena our plan, getting their thoughts.

"Dear God, why was this the only option?" Lena sighs, shaking her head. Try as she might to come off as the 'mature' one in our group, I can see the smile pulling at her lips. Nathan, on the other hand, found it hysterical.

"You're going streaking?" He echoes Sam's words for the third time in the last three minutes, cracking up again into another fit of laughter at his brother's expense. Sam shakes him off, "Yeah you little punk, and if you don't cool it, I'm gonna make you join us." 

He ruffles Nathan's hair, making a point to mess up every aspect of it. It distracts Nathan long enough for us to all get back on topic. 

"Okay, so obviously this is going to draw a lot of attention, especially from Father Duffy. When he drags you two up to his office, what's your story going to be?" Lena asks.

Sam shrugs, "I'm more of a 'wing it' type of guy myself."

"I'm a scripted person." I retort, narrowing my eyes at him. "I need a plotline to go on, at least."

He thinks about it for a moment before proposing his fantastic idea. "We'll go with this, say we're protesting the girls' uniform, because technically, we are. We'll just be doing it in a way that happens to be peppered with inappropriate yelling and imagery... Last night, you did say that I could sing a heavy metal song... What if that song were something that most religious people find to be... What's the term? Spiritually torturous."

"If it lands us in shit creek with Duffy, then by all means, do as you wish." 

A wicked smile graces his lips. I'm quite excited to see what exactly he has in store for the Sisters.

~~~  
Lena and Nathan went on their way, working to blend into the crowd in the hallway to watch the show from afar. I'd be lying if I didn't say that the nerves weren't eating away at me the whole time. Me and Sam stowed ourselves away in the girls' bathroom, working quickly to alter our uniforms as much as possible.

I untucked my blouse, unbuttoning the collar from the base of my throat to where my bra would show. I hike up my skirt so that it's above my knees and kick off the ugly ass shoes. Yep, this frazzled mess and blatant disrespect of the dress code would have no problem catching the Sister's attention, and then Duffy's. 

I look over my reflection in the mirror, making tiny alterations throughout to bring the whole thing together. I studied my eyes for a second before moving my gaze to Sam's, then back to mine, making the boldest decision so far.

I go ahead and unbutton the rest of my blouse, handing it to Sam, where he'd been busy trying to roll up the hem of his t-shirt to make a mock bra across his chest. "You want this?"

He looks at it, then at me, surprise crossing his face as he hurries to avert his gaze back to my face. "To be honest, I'd probably rip it."

"What do you mean?" laugh, poking at his bicep. "These things? No, sir."

"Thanks." He mutters dryly, still working on his shirt.

I laugh. "You're welcome... Here, do it like this." I replace his hands with my own, repeatedly rolling up the fabric of his blue shirt, binding up the fabric the most in the middle so that the knot sits right on his sternum. 

He turns to look at himself in the mirror and starts to laugh, shaking his head in what could have been amusement, but also regret... Deep, burning regret, and probably wondering to himself why he did not run when he had the chance. Had he made different decisions, he would not currently be gazing at his half-dressed reflection in the mirror of the girls' bathroom, preparing to go running down the halls making a complete clown of himself. 

"You know, Mr. Dolfrey said that his gifts to the less-fortunate were completely free. No sacrifices needed on the recipients' part... I'm really starting to think that that man is a liar."

"Well, when he told us to get in trouble, I don't think he had..." I pause to readjust how his shirt sits on his chest, trying to get the best 'bra look'. "something like this in mind. And anyway, it's just going to be a fun story to tell years from now, right?"

He snorts. "Oh yeah, can't wait to explain to my grandkids that I went running down the halls of a Catholic orphanage looking like a cheap street-corner prostitute."

"A handsome cheap street-corner prostitute." I correct him with a smile, patting his cheek. "Now then, I do believe it's showtime."

"Really? I mean we could just-" 

"We wait too long and that crowd will disburse and we'll have to come up with a different plan." I remind him. "If you have another idea in mind, I'm all ears."

He opens his mouth to retort but stutters, frowns, and crosses his arms across his chest, looking adorable standing there in his feminine get-up, contrasting nicely with the happy trail patch of hair on his abdomen.

"All I've got to say is that that date night had better be beyond all expectations."

"That's the spirit!" 

I pull open the bathroom door, poking my head out into the hall, the air still buzzing with indecipherable conversation, a droning hum above everything else. The cliques of kids have gathered all down the hallway, chatting to one another. No on is expecting the scene that's about to take place.

Despite my upbeat attitude towards of all of this to encourage Sam's participation, I can't ignore my own anxiety eating away at me, making me feel sick. Am I really about to go running down this hall in my bra?

I look back at Sam, his brown eyes meeting mine, a smile creeping across his face that makes my heart pound. Yep. That's it, we're doing this. 

"I'll go first," Sam says, grabbing onto my arm, squeezing past. "You just follow my lead, do whatever you like. As for me..." He jerks his shoulders back like a hero about to perform the finishing move, reaching up to readjust his shirt-bra. "I will be reciting the glory that is Highway to Hell by AC/DC."

"No clue who that is, but the song sounds like something that'll make Sister Catherine fall over."

He steps further out into the hall, not quite into the sightline of the other students. He takes a deep breath, holds it for a few seconds, grabs on to my hand and after giving it a firm squeeze, we were off.


	27. Promise Me

"I think it's obvious that we'll stay happy. Because I'm my happiest when you smile at me."

Promise Me - Bad Flower

Off we went, tearing off in a sprint toward the unsuspecting kids with grins on our faces, our hearts pounding like drums in our chests, and the anxiety spiking in my soul no match for the exhilaration I feel.

Sam's laughter wavers, and he takes in a deep breath before belting out the lyrics as loudly as he could manage. "Living easy, living free, season ticket on a one-way ride. Asking nothing, leave me be. Taking everything in my stride. Don't need reason, don't need rhyme. Ain't nothing I would rather do..."

Heads turn, searching for the source of the yelling. Confused, curious eyes fix in our direction and bewildered expressions shift to ones of amusement. Laughter erupts all around us as we charge through the sea of bodies, mazing through them, Sam leading the charge. 

"Going down, party time... All my friends are gonna be there, too."

No Sister's in sight yet... Gotta keep going. 

With a wicked grin, Sam sucked in a deep breath to deliver the chorus to the song that would surely seal our fate and have us sitting pretty in isolation by the end of the day. 

"I'm on the highway to hell! On the highway to hell! Highwayyy to hell, I'm on the highway to hell."

The laughter gets louder and some of the boys start whistling and chanting, cheering on our rebellion. The other students grab onto each other, pulling kids out of the way, paving a clear-shot path to the end of the hall. We charged on, laughing, yelling, and Sam screaming obscene lyrics.

"No stop signs, speed limit, nobody's gonna slow me down. Like a wheel, gonna spin it, nobody's gonna mess me around."

He skids to a halt in front of Sister Amanda, her eyes wide in terror and anger. Sam flashes her a smile, singing the next words just for her. 

"Hey Satan! I paid my dues, playing in a rocking band. Hey mama, look at me, I'm on my way to the promised land, whoo!"

He tugs my hand and were off again. The louder the cheering gets, the more attention it draws. I see a few of the Sister's up ahead, poking their heads around the corridors to see what all the commotion is. It doesn't even take a fraction of a second for them to fix their eyes on the two half-dressed teens running in the halls. The stack of rules we are actively breaking just now is impressive. 

"I'm on the highway to hell, highway to hell!"

School may not be actively in session, but the hallways are still plenty alive with kids making their way to the afternoon Bible study sessions, the very ones that we should both be on our way to right now.

The most boisterous of the boys are rallying behind our cause, bellowing loud cheers and a string of profanity-lade "FUCK YEAHS."

Our reign of terror is brought to a shuttering halt as Father Duffy himself steps out into our path, sending us scrambling to put on the breaks to not run into him. He stands there, hands on his hips in disapproval, looking down at us in angered disappointment. 

"Michelle Darabont! Samuel Morgan! To my office, now."

We fake a worried expression while looking at each other then back at Duffy. 

"As for the rest of you, continue to your Bible studies or disburse." 

The hallway grows quiet as the crowd around us dwindles, the kids squeezing past us still stealing glances while they could. Father Duffy motions for us to follow him, and we do. We follow him away with sullen expressions, trying our hardest to look like a pair of whipped dogs, but as soon as his back is turned, we wink at each other, proud of our victory.

"When we get there, let me handle the talking." Sam says in a hushed whisper before Father Duffy can turn around to keep tabs on us. 

I can't say that before now I have ever done anything or seen anyone else do anything bad enough to warrant him raising his voice, angry to the point that a vein in his forehead poked out. I'd say it was a success.

There are many rules in this place, but the golden rule is don't dick around with the dress code. 

Don't DIY any part of your uniform, do not stylize it, do not wear your hair differently, and not a single button of your blouse is allowed to be undone. We shot that rule to shit.

As we walk the halls in a mock walk of shame to Duffy's office, the fleeing students swarming their lockers hesitate, getting in a last good look at our new attire, unsure whether to worry for us or laugh.

I see Lena and Nathan standing together by her locker as we walk by, she meets my eyes first, then her gaze flits over my improvised outfit, then Sam's and back to my face with an amused smile. Nathan pumps his fists in the air, silently cheering for our success. Now it's time to go to the office and see how good of a job we did kicking the hornet's nest.

I wink at them and turn the corner to climb the stairs.

"Take a seat, please." Duffy commands once we're in his office, closing the door behind us, headed gruffly toward his own chair seated at the head of the desk. He interlocks his hands the way Mr. Dolfrey had last night, but the circumstances are much different.

We sit down, Sam making a show of lounging back in his seat, showing off the mess of a bralette we'd made of his t-shirt.

"Mr. Morgan, please fix your shirt." Father Duffy requests in a firm, but fair tone. 

"I thought this was a place of non-discrimination?" Sam asks innocently, then gesturing toward the drag-show he'd made his torso. "I'm feeling a little feminine today."

"Mr. Morgan. Now." 

"Y'know," Sam says, scooting up his chair, still not unrolling his shirt from the makeshift bra, his voice taking on the smart-ass, sarcastic tone he uses to annoy the crap out of people. "I was really just protesting the dress code for the girls. They're forced to be bundled up like they're headed out into a snowstorm every day, and for what?" 

He pauses to raise his eyebrows at Duffy, who looks very tired of his crap by this point."To keep the boys focused on their studies? Heaven forbid, they find a girl attractive."

Duffy's eyes are locked with Sam's for a long time before they move over to meet mine. I squirm in his gaze, unable to feel as comfortable in my drag attire as Sam seems to be, considering that this was all my idea. I see it in his eyes then, the spark of recognition, and then the disdain as it occurs to him what that means. He doesn't word it, but I can tell just by looking at him, that he knows, or at least, he thinks he knows.

"Point being," Sam persists, drawing the attention back to himself, continuing to find new ways to push Duffy's buttons. "I just don't think it's fair. It was just a friendly protest, is all."

Father Duffy stares him down for a bit before averting his gaze to his hands in front of him, his expression growing thoughtful."Mr. Morgan," He addresses him calmly, thinking over his choice of words, the ones that still paint him as a peacekeeper. "Most friendly protests do not consist of young people dressing as the opposite gender, running down the hall, screaming the lyrics to Highway to Hell." He thinks for a bit more before continuing.

"To be quite frank with the both of you, you broke a number of rules, and broke the concentration of the other students in their bible studies. Because of all of this, I have no choice but to place you both in the isolation ward for the next two days as punishment."

"You can't do that!" Sam snaps, playing up a whole one-man show with the drama. "I've got my brother to look out for."

"Well then, you should have thought about that before you decided to streak in my hallways." Duffy replies with a tight smile.

"C'mon, now, that was hardly streaking. Proper streaking is when you strip right down to-"

"Samuel Morgan."Duffy interrupts him in his firm tone, still echoing with an undertone of kindness. "I know what streaking is. You do not have to explain it to me."

"Had to try..." Sam replies with an indifferent shrug. "I mean, you work in a place like this, no way a prude like you has been exposed to indecent things...I just wanted to be sure that you knew." Sam meets his eyes and for a moment, I saw exactly what I was looking for on Duffy's face.

He wanted to get upset with Sam over him calling him a prude, but he simply could not ignore his dirty little secret, the tale that I had shared with Sam many months ago about the unmentionables I found in his secret drawer. 

He clasps and unclasps his hands in silence for an agonizingly long moment before redirecting his attention to me. "And you, Miss Darabont? What is your excuse? Surely you didn't just join the ranks of Samuel Morgan just to protest the girls' dress code."

The way he words it is so flat-out, there's not much wiggle room for me to work with here. I shrug, fighting the urge to break eye contact with him to look at Sam. To do that now would only confirm all of his suspicions and I couldn't let him have that level of satisfaction.

"Actually, yes." I confirm, keeping my voice even and confident. He'd sniff out any anxiety in me if I showed it. "I did not only join his ranks to do this protest, but I lead it. It was my idea."

"And why exactly did you think that this was the only way to protest it? Instead of just submitting a complaint to my office? Now I've got dozens of rowdy children out in those halls, surely gossiping about the incident, and possibly more planning their own copy-cat scenario."

I shrug, "Shocking content demands attention. Attention gets results."

"And that one over there singing Highway to Hell?" He asks, pointing the end of his pen at Sam.

"Shock factor." I repeat with a prideful smile. "Did it work to get your attention? We're both seated here, so I have to assume it did."

He doesn't answer me, just grows thoughtful, leaning back in his seat. The moments pass and he thinks in silence before reaching for the phone on his desk, making a request over the intercom for one of the Sister's to come to collect us and take us to the isolation ward. Mission accomplished.

Within five minutes, Sister Evelyn knocks on the door and lets herself in. She gets a good look at both of us, looking at me longer than Sam. She was the one who threw a fit over the jacket incident the other day, she was the one most paranoid about a Fran-repeat in the making. Her expression says it all, the look of disgust saved for the worst of troublemakers.

"Miss Darabont, do fix your attire, please. Same to you, Mr. Morgan." Duffy says as we rise from our seats to leave. "Oh, and don't be planning to make a repeat of this offense, Miss Darabont. The consequences next time will be more dire."

I don't appreciate being threatened... It struck me wrong and I felt a bit of anger flare up. Some part of me, the cocky, sarcastic shit-head side implemented by Sam's street-smart ways urged me to march back to his desk and explain to him the incredible blackmail material I have on him.

In the end, my angels won and I nodded in response to his request, following Sam out the door. 

Something tells me this won't be the last time I'll be in trouble with Sam, and if we don't decide our own fate, it's going to be decided for us. 

For the most part, I'm pretty sure that Father Duffy knows what we are and that we're romantically involved. It won't stand long before that flame is swiftly snuffed. 

It's still a major drama topic among the sisters to bring up the Francine Moody incident, using it to scare off any budding relationships in the place by pulling aside the girls to warn them that they'd end up alone, pregnant, and forsaken by God for their sins. That's enough to scare everyone away from wanting anything for themselves.

Sister Evelyn doesn't say anything during the entirety of the walk, but what she doesn't say she makes up for in body language. She radiates an aura of disappointment, but also the pride of peacock for being right about me being trouble and a trash student at the home. 

I shrug back into my blouse, not really putting my 100% into tucking it in and buttoning it all up correctly again. Sam grudgingly fixes his shirt, smoothing the fabric carefully. 

Once we arrived at the administration building, Sister Evelyn told us to stand back for a moment while she filed the proper paperwork for us to take up residency here. 

While we wait, we take refuge in the ugly orange chairs lined against the walls. 

"Well, it was a success." I say in a low voice, keeping my eyes fixed on the secretary working in the little glass office in the center of the room, observing how often she steals nosy glances at the two of of us. 

"I honestly expected him to be madder... I'm a bit disappointed, to be honest." He chuckles, cracking a little smile, flashing his eyes. I smile back at him. "Well, it's certainly the closest I've seen him to being angry so we must have done something right. Normally his the total chill dude who is unphased by everything."

I think for a moment before continuing. "When you brought up streaking to him and mentioned that a prude like him wouldn't know anything about it, did you get a look at his face? It said it all." 

He cracks a smile. "Oh yeah... That smooth little detail was meant to strike fear, and I think it did. He looked like he didn't know if we knew."

"There toward the last I almost marched back over to tell him that I knew his secret and that if I were him, I'd keep my trap shut... But y'know, time didn't permit."

"More like you pissed out." He snickers. "You wouldn't have done it."

"Sure I would have." I insist defensively, but that just makes him crack up more. "I would have!" 

Our conversation is cut short when Sister Evelyn calls for me. "Come along, Miss Darabont. Let's get you situated." I see her gaze deviate from me to Sam and the slight turn of her chin as she lifts it higher to stick her nose in the air in disapproval. 

I rise to join her, looking back at Sam one last time before I approach. Before we can go anywhere, she halts me, reaching out toward me to redo all the buttons of my shirt until they are all once again seated nicely right at the base my throat. She gives me a lingering look before turning away, the kind of disapproving look someone would probably give a shady person for looking at their kid. 

Considering that the human body is God's creation, you'd think that they'd be a little more apt to celebrate it, not condemning it and pretending that it doesn't exist. That the parts of the body they try so hard to hide aren't there for beauty and 'whoring' ones self out to the world, but that they serve a purpose. If the Sisters had it their way, we'd all be wearing the same black robes as them.

Down the hall we go, a few doors down before she unlocks one and gestures for me to enter.

"You know the rules of isolation. No dinner, no breakfast, you will be collected tomorrow for lunch and to go your Bible study, and then brought back to complete the second and final night of your internment. Do you have any questions or concerns?"

I shake my head no.

"Good..." She begins to close the door to lock up shop, but then hesitates, leaning back into the room just far enough to say her parting piece. "And Miss Darabont... I'd recommend not pulling any more stunts like this, especially not with the Morgan boy. You may find yourselves on the street sooner than you think."

After the door closes, I stand there in silence. "And we may be leaving sooner than you think." I murmur back, turning to go check the window lock. I flick it back, finding a small padlock adorning it.

"No matter... I won't be here long."

I fish a bobby pin from my hair and get to work undoing the lock. Within a few seconds, it pops open. I pocket the lock, testing the window again, finding that it now opens smoothly.

Satisfied with the results of my labor, I go to sit on the edge of the bed, looking out the window. We've got a few hours of daylight left, might as well catch some sleep while I can, so I can be in my best state for tonight.

~~~

I wake to the rays of pink sunlight cast across my walls, signaling the sinking of the sun over the horizon. I check the clock over the door, it's almost time.

I go to the mirror, undoing my braid and combing through it with my fingers. In a quick motion, I remake the plaits, smoothing them down and sealing the end with the rubber band again.In the event that one of the Sisters drop by while I'm out, I take the liberties of making a false body in my bed, taking extra pillows from the little linen cupboard to form the sleeping body under the covers.

When everything looks good, I push open my window and poke my head out into the hot, humid air of summer, looking around before shoving out onto the ledge, gently closing the window behind me and shimmying along the edge, peeking through the other windows in search of Sam. 

To my surprise, he's in the room right next to mine. I tap on his glass, getting his attention. He comes over and I inspect the window, looking where the latch mechanism is. There is a little gap in the wood just big enough to wedge my bobby pin through.

I hold it up for him to see and point down below before I start feeding it through. He grabs it on the other side, immediately going to work unlocking his own.

A couple of seconds later, he pushes open his window, handing the pin back to me with a smile on his face.

"Hi there."

"Hi."

He reaches out toward me and I reach for him, encasing each other in a hug. In one swift swing, he gracefully slings me around in a spin into his room. I hug him tightly before pulling away slightly to look at his face, smiling in awe at him. 

"Don't start with the puppy eyes, now." He jokes. "Are you ready to go?"

I nod, straightening my skirt out. "Whatever that entails," I sigh. "What do you think he has planned?"

Sam shrugs as he climbs out the window into the pink light of sunset, the sunrays catching in his hair, making the brown almost appear red. "I guess we'll find out."

We climb out, shimmying along the edging like usual, finding ourselves standing atop the roof of the administration building, looking out at the brilliant glow encompassing the outskirts of Boston and the bigger buildings in the distance.

I get so caught up looking at it, completely blown away by the beauty. It's on a very rare occasion that I've found myself on the rooftops before sundown.

"How are we supposed to get to the manor?" I ask doubtfully as we get down on the ground, keeping an eye out for any of the nosy Sisters lurking around the courtyard. I hadn't put much thought into our travel plans, I was too caught up thinking about how to get into trouble to get to this point. 

"... That, I do not know." Sam replies, his face scrunching up in thought while he hatches a plan. We keep working forward, navigating the narrow passages and little courtyards until we find ourselves in front of the front gate, no guard in sight. 

Sam grabs onto the bars to pull himself up to climb over but stops, pointing through the bars across the street. 

"Isn't that the same car that drove us home last night?"

I look at the black car, the windows tinted too dark to make out the features of the driver. I want to say yes, but I am not entirely sure myself. "I don't know."

Sam climbs over first and I follow closely behind. We linger on the sidewalk for a moment, eyeing the car. That's when the driver's side door opened and the man from last night steps out in his nice suit, gesturing toward us. 

"Miss Darabont, Mr. Morgan? Mr. Dolfrey has sent me to collect you."

He must have seen our apprehension because he amended. "He figured it'd take you both too long to walk."

We accept the ride, me feeling far too giddy to be riding in a car again to really stop to think about the possible consequences. He has the radio on again, this time a little louder. 

I listen along, but end up getting all caught up in my own little world, admiring the one right outside my window. The hum of everything else fades into the background as I soak it all up. 

The ride is pleasant. The windows are all rolled in, letting in that sweet, warm summer air. It ruffles our hair, casting it all across our faces, but it's fine. I'm completely blown away by the experience. 

I caught myself smiling on occasion, blinded by the bright sunshine on the horizon. 

"Sir, do you have any idea what Mr. Dolfrey has planned tonight?" I ask, leaning forward in my seat to watch his expression in the rearview mirror. He meets my eyes in the reflection. 

"I don't think words can describe it." He replies, "To say the least, Mr. Dolfrey has an affection for theatrics and grand gestures."

I look back at Sam, a confused smile on my face. I try to dream up the craziest scenario in my head, thinking of what the weirdest possible first date could be in that man's eyes. 

We turn off the highway onto a gravel trail winding up through the woods. I lean against the door, resting my chin on my folded arms, watching the trees rush by, listening to the chorus of locusts and getting briefly blinded by the rays of sunlight breaking through the trees. 

The gravel trail winds up around a bend before turning into a straight driveway leading down a tree-lined avenue, marked by a mailbox with Dolfrey on the side. I stare on in awe, the flowering trees along the road almost forming a perfect pink tunnel to the house, just barely peeking out from beyond the trees, the great spires on the roof are showing.

We hadn't gotten to see any of this last night on our walk. I look over the property as we get closer, realizing that we'd come through the woods on the left side of the house, missing the floral driveway entirely. 

I throw a look over my shoulder to see if Sam's reaction to the gorgeous scenery matches my own, but he's not even looking out his window, he's looking at me. 

"What?" I laugh uncomfortably, meeting his eyes. He snorts, smiling and shaking his head, averting his gaze out his own window. 

"What?" I repeat insistently. He doesn't look at me as he responds. "You're just adorable, that's all."

"Adorable?" I echo in confusion, fascinated by this revelation.

"Yeah, the way you completely spazz out when you see something amazing or new, and much as it might disappoint you to hear me say it, I find it very adorable."

"Really?" I giggle awkwardly. I hadn't realized that he'd been paying that close attention to the little things I do and my reactions. I know he had last night during the movie, constantly stealing glances to see my wide-eyed expressions and complete enthrallment with the whole experience. 

"Yes," He says, looking back at me briefly before returning his gaze back out his window. "Watching you get excited over the little things is one of my favorite things about you."

My heart tightens in my chest, swelling up with pride. A big, goofy smile spreads across my lips. I look back out the window at the big house beyond the gates as we come to a stop. It's nothing short of something from a fairytale.

Our driver gets out first, opening my door and extending a hand toward me to help me out. I accept his help, climbing out into the warm, muggy heat.

"Sir, may I ask your name?" I ask him as he lets go of my hand to circle the car to Sam's side. He beams at me as he pridefully recites. "Richard Downey, at your service, Miss."

"Thank you for the ride, Mr. Downey. It is very appreciated."

I walk around to meet Sam, giving our driver a quick wave before heading through the gate.

We climb up the steps to the house, and before we can even reach for the door, it flies open. Sam and I take a tentative step back, staring back at the short woman who had answered the door. She has an excited smile on her face, "Hi! You must be Sam and Missy. My Father told me you'd be coming, and has assigned me to the task of helping you both get ready. Please, come in."

She steps aside, gesturing into the foyer behind her. We slip in turning to face her. She's a short lady, even shorter than me by two inches despite the low black heels she wears. She has dark blonde hair, pulled up atop her head in a messy bun, light natural makeup, and a simple blue summer dress. This must be Leah.

My suspicions are confirmed when she extends her hand toward each of us in a friendly way, a polite smile on her face. "Leah."

"Nice to meet you." Sam replies with a nod.

"I cannot express to you how excited my Father is about this whole evening. It's all he's been talking about since last night, I haven't seen him this excited in a long time. He is definitely looking forward to putting this on for you both. He's got dinner planned, entertainment, the whole works... That's why he assigned me to help you both since he has his hands full, otherwise, he'd probably have a hand in that as well."

"Who's got their hands full?"

We turn to see Mr. Dolfrey himself coming toward us, drying his hands on a towel, beaming with the same excitement as his daughter. 

"Wonderful to see you both again." He shakes our hands, stepping back to his daughter's side, who's looking at him with confusion in your eyes. "I thought you were handling dinner?"

"I was... Then Amy kicked me out of the kitchen, shooing me out because we have guests." He chuckles, rolling his eyes. "So I'll be of assistance here. I'll get Sam fitted, Leah, will you help Missy?"

"Of course."

She hooks her arm through mine, already leading me away. I throw one last look over my shoulder at Sam, seeing that he's also being towed away in the opposite direction by a very excited Reagan Dolfrey.

We cut through the adjacent room to the right of the front door where the checkerboard tile turns to a deep orange carpet. The room is mostly made up of bay windows, filled with bookshelves and comfortable couches. At the back of this room is a door leading out onto the side patio.

"Where are we going?" I ask, following her down the steps and across the grass toward a little building set back in the trees. The air is warm and humid, leaving my skin with a sticky sheen immediately. 

"The Community Closet, as I call it... But I'm sure my Father probably is still calling it the General Store, right?"

I laugh and nod. "Yeah... I believe he did call it that last night."

She laughs, shaking her head. "He tells everyone that that is what it's called, hoping it'll stick. Community Closet just sounds a little nicer, less... Primitive. Anyway, we're looking to get you something nice to wear to dinner."

We walk up the little brick path to the front door of the building, which looks like it served as a guest house in a past life. She opens up the door, flicking on the lights inside. I'm met by racks of colorful clothing, shoes, purses, hats, and everything else one could possibly need. 

"Do you know your size? We'll start from there."

I hardly hear her, too caught up in turning slowly, taking in all the colors that feel impossible to me. I'd grown up wearing only three colors... Bold reds, bright oranges, and daunting blacks are a bold contrast to the pale blue, khaki, and white I'd known.

"It is wonderful, isn't it?" She beams, looking around herself. "Do you have a preference in dresses? Do you like long skirts, short ones? Floral patterns or solid colors? Do you have a color preference in general?"

"I'm not sure..." I admit, approaching the nearest rack, touching the long sleeve of a grey sweater dress. "Anything that's opposite of my uniform works for me."

Leah takes a good long look at my dress, circling me for a bit. "We want to get something that's going to make Sam's jaw drop, but, we don't want to make it too obvious that it's intended to be attractive, so we're going to avoid the reds for now..." She turns away, busying herself with digging through a rack, humming to herself while she works.

"Something soft, something lace... Something..." She pauses while wrestling a clump of fabric on the rack to pull it out from the others among it. "Pink." She breathes, holding it up to look it over, throwing me a confident smile. 

"What do you think?"

I step closer to get a better look. It's a shade of dusty pink, constructed of frail floral lace. It's a spaghetti strap, with a ruffle of lace below the collarbone, draping off the shoulders on either side.

"I love it!" I exclaim, taking it into my hands. It's so beautiful, I can't process the words to describe my excitement. I've never gotten to wear nice things like this before.

"Excellent! Let's get you into it, and get your hair and makeup done. Your man's a waitin'."

The way she says it sends me heart pounding again. Is this how brides feel when they're getting ready for their wedding day? Unable to see each other until the moment when she walks down the aisle, both of them sobbing hysterically.

Of course, this isn't as momentous of an occasion, but still one for the books. Just thinking of him waiting for me has me in a frenzy.

"You can change over there." Leah points toward the privacy shutter in the corner, painted with soft Japanese cherry blossoms. I step behind it, already working to undo the buttons of my blouse while she business herself at a vanity at the other end of the room. 

I shimmy out of my skirt, draping it over the shutter, handling the pretty pink dress with cautious hands, worried that I might soil it just by looking at it.

Carefully, I undo the side zipper and begin stepping into it. My heart is pounding the whole time as I pull it up, tugging the straps over my shoulders and adjusting everything so it sits correctly. I zip it up and take a breath, my excitement about to make my heart explode. One moment of hesitation and I turn to face my reflection in the full-body mirror against the wall.

Even with my hair still tangled up in my braid, I see a shocking improvement from the orphanage rags. The lace hangs loosely on me, softly framing me.

I hadn't expected to be impressed just by getting to see myself in another color besides blue, but here we are and I am completely blown away by it  
I hadn't expected to be impressed just by getting to see myself in another color besides blue, but here we are and I am completely blown away by it. I turn slightly from side to side, watching the soft lace draping of the skirt swish back and forth with the movement. 

"Are you ready? How did it fit?" Leah asks, walking down one of the aisles between the racks toward the changing area. 

Without stepping out from behind the shutter, I turn to face her with a massive, cheek-hurting smile on my face. 

"Holy crap, it fits like a glove... I'm in love with it."

I step out to show it off to her, laughing when she claps and cheers. "A success!" She exclaims, raising both fists into the air above her head. "Let's get the last details done, you're going to look gorgeous."

She brushes my hair all out, smoothing it down my back. We had contemplated doing curls, but decided against it since even with my hair in a braid, it'd be hard to hide my hair's new texture from the Sisters.

Once hair was done, and she'd draped a simple silver necklace around my neck, she began work on my makeup. She scolded me a few times for blinking too much when she was trying to do eyeshadow, and for being too fidgety in general.

"I'm going to end up poking you in the eye if you don't stop blinking." She sighs, the mascara wand hovering just under my upper lashes.

"I'm sorry!" I laugh, "I've never worn makeup and my reflexes are insisting I need to blink."

"You'll be fine." She assures me again, carefully going in again with the wand, finishing up the last of the work on my eyes. She finishes off the look with a peachy lipstick. 

"You're a size 6.5 in shoes, right?"

"Yes, I am."

"How are these?"

They are white heels, nothing too aggressive for the first time out of flats. Just the same short, stumpy heels that the Sisters wear.

"Those will work!"

I put them on, taking a moment to admire them before rising from the vanity chair, turning toward the mirror to get a look at the full ensemble.

"Dear Lord..." I murmur under my breath, staring back at the mystery girl. Leah had done an excellent job keeping me recognizable while highlighting the better features. I step closer to the glass, getting a better look at the soft metallic bronze eyeshadow she had worked into the crease of my eyes.

I'd never been too worried about my appearance, never too bothered that I could not wear makeup, high heels, or nice dresses... Seeing myself like this for the first time is a shock. A shock that I oddly find myself kind of in love with.

"Oh my goodness, thank you so much." I turn to Leah, giving her a big hug. "You are an absolute wonder, Leah. Holy crap that's amazing." 

She laughs, pulling away to look me over, "You're welcome. You look absolutely gorgeous."

She redirects her attention to the clock. "They should be about ready, too. Let's get you to the garden."

I nod in agreement, daring to take my first wobbly steps in the heels. The movements are clumsy at first, an awkward shuffle at best. Leah holds onto my arm while I walk, keeping my balance while I figure out how to work with the added height.

"When you're walking in heels, keep a straight upright posture, that will help with your balance. Walk one foot directly in front of the other, like this."

She demonstrates in her own pair of low heels, each step she takes she is connecting the heel of her front step directly in front of the rear one, walking in a narrow path. "Walking like this also does wonders to define your silhouette, making you have a more elegant, slender appearance."

I give it another go, implementing her advice into each step.

"There you go! Just like that. Also, be careful to not take each step too close together, or force your feet to stay close together because you'll risk catching your foot and tripping."

"The opposite of elegant." I laugh, concentrating hard on pacing back and forth across the wood floor, quickly building up speed, balance and confidence.

"How do you feel about it now?"

"They feel good." I nod, trying out shifting my weight from foot to foot.

"And how do you feel about dinner?" She asks, a knowing look on her face.

I laugh nervously, shaking my head. "Nervous, definitely. Our idea of dates thusfar hasn't been much besides sneaking out and running across the roofs getting into trouble... We've had a number of serious sit-down conversations, but always in a place or situation where there is a distraction to break it up. Sitting across from him for a long period of time?..."

"And not quite feeling like yourself." Leah adds, her tone sympathetic. "I understand."

I let out a big, deep breath. "I am excited... Just nervous."

"You look beautiful," she says, fixing my sleeve where the lace was sitting crooked. "You'll do great."

With that, we were headed back toward the main house. This time, we opted to stick to the concrete sidewalk encircling the home. Leah opens the backdoor for me and I stepped in, completely unprepared for how loud my shoes would sound on the tile. 

There are now a few strangers hanging out in the living room, playing cards or reading. None of them pay us any mind as we cut through to the foyer, following the long hallway to the back of the house where the wall facing the garden is all glass.

"Here you go," She shoos me along, giving me an encouraging smile. "Right out that door, he'll be there."

I nod, taking a deep, shaky breath before continuing the last of the walk solo. I approach the glass, hesitating in front of the door, looking through at the big patio lined with flower and shrubs, the sky above darkening with the pale shade of navy as dusk sets in.

In the middle of it all, standing at the edge of the patio, his back to me, is Sam. 

I step through the sliding glass door onto the back patio, all lit up with more twinkle lights. I eye him for a moment, the sound of the door closing behind me alerting him, causing him to turn. 

I lock eyes with him, my uncertain grimace fading immediately to a big smile. I begin to laugh when I see his hair, usually a complete mess, gelled and carefully combed back, with not a hair out of place. More impressive, is the crisp black suit and dress shoes he wears, and the snazzy black bow tie.

"Dear Lord have mercy, look at you!" I laugh, walking toward him as quick as the heels will allow, spreading my arms at my sides, reaching for him. He chuckles, shaking his head and approaching me, reaching for my hands. 

He encases them in his own, holding them between us while he searches my eyes, leaning back a big to get a better look at my dress. "I almost thought you were someone else there for a moment," He admits with one of his million-dollar crooked smiles slinking across his lips. "You look beautiful, Missy."

I laugh awkwardly, about to respond but he interrupts. "Oh no, just take the compliment. I know you're gearing up for one of those cliche I'm not beautiful speeches." He says, raising his voice to a sharper, girlier voice to put emphasis on his point. His sarcastic grin relaxes into a soft, proud smile instead.

"You really look beautiful."

"Thank you." I reply, casting my eyes downward, feeling my cheeks burning with a blush. "You look pretty good yourself, very dapper, very handsome."

I pull one of my hands away from his, reaching up to touch his bowtie. He puffs out his chest a bit in a prideful fashion. 

"I really dig the smoothed back hair, it's a good look on you."

He snickers, "Yeah, it does a good job of showing off my receding hairline."

"Aren't you a bit young to be worried about that?" I smile. 

"Aren't we a bit young for everything we worry about?" He counters, grinning at me and turning to stand at my side, extending his elbow toward me. I hook my hand through his, meeting his eyes one last time before we set off down the path.


End file.
